


And I defy everyone

by ToyBoxOfSuz



Series: The Familiar Chronicles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Banshee Lydia Martin, Banshee Powers, Banshees, Explicit Sexual Content, Familiar Peter, Familiars, Ghosts, Human Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Spells & Enchantments, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Scott, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToyBoxOfSuz/pseuds/ToyBoxOfSuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a magically talented teenager in a world that fears magic. Stiles thinks the only way he can learn more about his powers and magic is to summon a wolf familiar: Peter and become his master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Evy~
> 
> Alright story time!  
> 1\. This thing was my 2014 Nanowrimo project. I had the wordcount, but the story collapsed on me. This means that this story is still half finished. I post the first 6 chapters, but that is not the end of this.  
> The story may change and I may go back to edit chapters, but I try not to do that.
> 
> 2\. I apologize for everyone who is familiar with D&D's Planes. I took the liberty to violate them and use them as I want in this fic.
> 
> 3\. Also, the first fic in these series is this one: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/2509160> It may clear up a few things, but I think the fic can still be enjoyed without this part.

 

The rebels wanted their old world to come alive again. They wanted to bring back the peace and light into their lives and that’s why they did what they had to. What was necessary. The General was dead and the High Mage was dying. The whole place was resembling more those cemeteries they saw on the pages of the book about Abyss. It looked nothing like Elysium. And that was a _disgrace_. All the other Planes were laughing at them, that they let one of their own kind turn their world into something completely opposite of what they were supposed to represent. Their reputation was ruined, just like the High Palace. For more than a hundred years war was destroying their lands, their sky and the hearts of the people. The Plane had never experienced such destruction before. All books will mention it to serve as an example that even the most prosperous, most flourishing Plane can be the victim of war, and its people’s hearts can be as dark as the oceans of Abyss.

They were walking amongst corpses. The scent of blood was so thick in the air it felt like they were drinking it. It tasted like salt, like betrayal and none of them were sure if the air will be clear again.

“There!” someone shouted and pointed ahead, further inside the gates. It was the ruins of the entrance hall of the once magnificent palace now stained with blood and harmful magic. It truly became a place that should be banned and forbidden to step foot on until the end of time. No one in Elysium should forget what happened and make the same mistakes again.

The small group hurried ahead, spotting the figure looming over one of the fallen.

“It’s the High Mage.” someone whispered in a hoarse voice as they were getting closer. But they stopped in their tracks once the boy lifted his head to look over them. They knew in that moment that it wasn’t the High Mage. It was the fox with the face of the high mage. But he looked more like a creature from the dark Baator. Those eyes that were supposed to be golden brown were black as the night, and the fair, pale skin of his was dry and grey. But what made the men stop was the way he was looking at them. There was no sanity in those eyes.

“If the fox is alive then the High Mage is too.” someone said quietly and that made them brave enough to move closer. The fox was eying them with its dark eyes, ready to jump. His whole stance was tense and some of them even saw him snarl, despite his face never changed. His hands were fisted in the bloody clothes of his master.

“What should we do?” came the question. “We can’t save the High Mage at this rate.”

“There’s nothing to save anymore.” the fox spoke this time, clearly and loudly like the day. Everyone froze, turning their eyes full of fear toward the creature that was supposed to be just a mere servant. Yet it was looking at them like he was one of them. “My Master’s gone. He has been for hours.”

“That’s impossible.” they said. “Once the master dies the familiar dies with him, there’s no other way.”

“There is a way.” the fox said grinning with too many teeth.

“What have you _done_?” they asked and the familiar just let out a high, shrieking laugh.

“I’m carrying out my master’s order.” came the reply.

“But your master is _dead_.” someone said and many of them just realized that the High Mage is indeed dead. His soul left this Plane and yet his familiar was still present.

“Dead to this Plane.” the fox snarled for real this time, looking at the lifeless corpse in front of him. Some of the people swore that they saw the creature’s lips tremble. As if he wanted to cry. But how can a _hideous_ thing like that cry?

“What did he order you?” someone asked, even if they were afraid of the answer.

“That I should never let this happen again. That I should make sure when they meet again, it’s the last time.”

No one was sure what that meant.

“We will help you.” someone said. “We will write it down, we will tell all the Planes what happened to Elysium so no one will ever have to face this again. We will warn them.”

The fox was eying the group of people a little sceptic, but said nothing. Then he just nodded.

“Write it all down.” he growled in a low voice. “Warn them about the General especially.”

"And what will you do?" someone asked with fear.

The fox was silent for a long time, staring at his master's body.

"I will find his soul and protect it at all cost." came the answer. But strangely these last words of the fox never made the chronicles...

\--

The drive back to Beacon Hills was long, but not as long as Stiles wanted it to be. His mind was blank and he had no idea how his father will welcome him, or what he would say to him. Their last words weren’t exactly the kindest and Stiles felt like he had no right going back. He felt like he’d lost something.

Just hours ago he’d cast two spells from the Book even if t was forbidden without a license. And one was a summoning spell on top of that, which was _definitely_ illegal without a license. Stiles still felt the phantom wings on his back as they were growing and taking his life away little by little. But he also felt those arms around him, Peter’s arms, and he could even feel how the wolf took his wings and tore them off. Stiles knew he will have nightmares of this night for long months, even years. Just because he was too proud and too angry at his father…

\--

_“You’re lying!” Stiles shouted, stomping his feet. “It’s not the magic, it’s not that it’s not safe, it’s because it reminds you of mom and you can’t deal with that!” he said and his words were ringing too loud in the silence that followed. Stiles knew he went too far. He could feel it, his limbs were trembling and his father was looking at him hurt and disappointed and Stiles wanted to apologize. But something didn’t let him; he was too young and too proud and too taken away by his own powers. He was just standing there, eying his father, his throat going dry. “I miss her too, but not thinking about her, hiding her things, hiding what she was is not the way to deal with this, dad!”_

_“It’s not about that.” the sheriff started so quietly the boy thought he imagined him speak. “Give me the book.” he said and held out his hand for the Spell Book in Stiles hand which he had stolen from the cabinet again._

_“Oh, right, you’re not even gonna talk to me about it?” Stiles hissed, stepping back holding the book away._

_“Not now and not like this. Give me the book, Stiles.” his father sighed, with a raised voice and Stiles took another step back. “Stiles?”_

_“No. You can’t keep doing this, dad. You can’t just tell me not to do stuff without even explaining to me why!” the boy said and turned to leave._

_“Stiles! Stiles, where are you going?!” his father followed him as he was hurrying to his jeep._

_\--_

Stiles didn’t wait for his father. He just got into his car and left.

He knew that he was still young and there were things that confused him, but that didn’t mean his father should handle him like this. Like he wouldn’t understand that his father tries to keep him from magic because of _grief_ and not because of safety.

Magic meant more to Stiles and his family than spells and potions; it was Stiles’ mother Claudia’s talent. She was a practicing witch with a license, Stiles was still small when she stopped working officially with magic and took a job in Beacon Hills. Though she still kept smaller spells around the house. She used spells for cleaning, for cooking and gardening sometimes and even when she was reading to Stiles. All the pictures in Stiles’ book came to life and acted out the story right in front of his eyes. So Stiles never thought magic was something unsafe or dangerous. For him, magic was family and warmth.

And now, Stiles’ father wanted to take it all away, just because he didn’t want to be reminded of his own wife and how she wasn’t with them anymore. But Stiles wasn’t going to let it happen. It’s been almost two years now since Claudia died, but it still hurt and neither of them could accept it, and Stiles still woke up in the middle of the night to go to his parent’s room, seeking out his mother’s voice, only to find the harsh truth. Those nights he stayed with his father and they had early breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes. They were both suffering and it was getting worse as Stiles was actively trying to pursue magic on his own.

As the boy was driving up their driveway with a tear smeared face and bloodstained trousers, he could barely move to get out of the car. Stiles knew how he must have looked and yet the look on his father’s face still was like a punch in the gut when he walked inside the house.

Stiles was standing by their front door, not sure if he was ever allowed back in his home. He had his backpack in his hand, inside it his torn t-shirt and their family Spellbook, stained with blood and tears. All that stuff reminded him of what happened back in the motel and that it was real. It wasn’t just another nightmare. It was something real and Stiles knew something either broke or burned in him, because he didn’t feel like the same person as before. He felt like years or decades passed and he was coming home after all that time to his father, letting him wait and pray for him and his safety.

“Dad…” Stiles swallowed, his voice hoarse. His grip, however tight he tried to hold onto his bag, got weaker as his fingers trembled more. His father was standing in the living room, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. “Dad, I’m…” Stiles tried to continue, but his voice hitched. How could he explain? Where he could even _start_?

Should he tell his father that he almost died? That it was the stupidest accident that almost took his leftover family from him? Stiles just felt the weight of his mistake that he almost took everything from the person he loves the most: from his father.

“I’m sorry, dad, I’m sorry…” Stiles hicked, feeling his eyes water again and his head buzz from all those things he suddenly wanted to ask and say, and yet he could just repeat his broken apology.

The next thing Stiles knew was the sheriff stepping to him and pulling him in a tight hug. It hurt the scars on his back, but Stiles didn’t care. He dropped everything from his hands to cling to his father just like when he was five and he fell from the tree in their backyard. He couldn’t breathe for a while after the fall and his father held him close and calmed him,  told him it will be fine, that he fell hard, but he was a big boy and it will be alright. And then his mother got them ice cream and Stiles was climbing the tree the next day once again.

But this wasn’t a fall from a tree. Stiles felt like he was crawling back from the edge of a cliff, just to arrive back somewhere dark once again. But he was clinging to his father, rambling his apologies into his shoulder, crying and shaking.

“It’s alright, son. It will be alright.” his father spoke quietly, cupping the back of his head, just like when he was a little boy. And Stiles couldn’t be more thankful. He just realized how afraid he was when he thought he will die. “Everything will be alright.” the sheriff repeated and Stiles sniffed, nodding.

Stiles’ father was the sheriff in Beacon Hills for a few years now and he had the tendency to interrogate his mischievous son whenever he suspected that he was up to something. He had a technique that made Stiles spill all the beans, but not this time. The sheriff didn’t ask anything, he didn’t want to know where Stiles was, even if the boy knew he was itching to ask. But everything had its time and place and Stiles was starving and he was weak from blood loss. And he still had to decide exactly how much he wanted to tell his father… if he wanted to talk about the wings, that it almost killed him, that those wings had to be pulled out in order to save his life, and that it was someone else there with him. A wolf.

“Can we talk later, dad?” Stiles asked after he found his voice.

“Yes, son. We can.” the sheriff nodded, drawing back to look into his son’s tear smeared face. But he was still glad that Stiles was back, that he didn’t have to lose him too. And it broke Stiles’ heart more than anything.

“About mom too…” the boy swallowed, almost pleading as his eyes were seeking his father’s face.

“About her too.” the sheriff sighed and pulled Stiles back into him. “I’m glad you’re back, Stiles.”

Stiles choked again, clinging to his father. He was glad too…

\--

“Wah, that tickles!” Stiles squirmed and quickly pulled down his shirt when Scott reached out to trace his finger down one of his huge scars.

“Did your father see these?” Scott asked still awestruck, pulling back his hand.

“Well, not yet… I was thinking of only slowly telling him what exactly happened. Yeah. Like, not all at once.” Stiles said setting his shirt and leaning against the headrest of his bed. His father after all ordered him to stay at home for one day after all that ordeal. But he called Scott to come over after school, because he had to tell his experiences to someone. And who was more suited for the task than his newly turned werewolf friend?

“Like… to me right now.” Scott started, raising an eyebrow. Stiles just narrowed his eyes at him.

“Yes like to you right now.” he huffed.

Scott was looking at Stiles as if he was contemplating if the story he had just heard was true or not. But Stiles’ dead serious expression signed, that maybe what he just told about the fight with his father and the spell of the wings was maybe true. Well, definitely the fight with his father.

“Okay- okay, so let me get this straight.” Scott started, holding up his hand. Stiles groaned, rolling his eyes and fell back down his bed. “So you actually cast a spell from the book?”

“For the third time, Scott, yes, yes I did. I cast a spell.” Stiles sighed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“But that’s illegal without a license.” Scott frowned heavily.

“Tell me something I don’t know! I got rid of all the evidence, okay? And I didn’t hurt anyone, no one’s gonna find out.” Stiles hissed a little nervously. His friend just rubbed his cheek as he was eying him for a while.

“And it was to summon wings.” Scott continued slowly. His friend groaned, drumming his fingers on his stomach. He knew Scott could be slow sometimes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed with it.

“I- yes. Yes it was to summon wings.” the boy sighed with an exaggerated nod.

“But you couldn’t fly.” Scott continued.

“You’re going to repeat it all back to me again or what?!” his friend groaned a bit louder than necessary.

“Sorry.” Scott apologized with those puppy dog eyes of his and Stiles just wanted to kick him.

“I swear to god ever since you’re a werewolf your puppy eyes are even worse!” the boy sighed, rubbing his eyes. Scott just chuckled at him, looking down. But after a moment he continued.

“So you couldn’t fly. And then you took them off?” Scott asked quietly.

“It wasn’t me.” Stiles muttered, eying the ceiling of his room. But he was seeing something else. He remembered that day, the day with the wings and that guy. That familiar… “It was- It was someone else.”

“There was someone there with you?” Scott frowned more, moving closer, because Stiles was speaking too quiet suddenly.

“Kinda.” Stiles muttered, biting at his lower lip. He didn’t exactly tell his father about the familiar either and he was hesitating in telling Scott too. He had no idea why. It was just another spell. That guy… Peter was his name, was just a result of a spell. He was just like the wings, just like the illusions his mother created, he wasn’t real.

And yet this ‘illusion’ was the one saving Stiles, putting him back together and offering him knowledge. He was strong and powerful and Stiles could look into his head, his thoughts, and see death and destruction. The wolf, Peter, was dangerous and Stiles knew that even with his limited knowledge of magic he was aware that Peter wasn’t something usual.

“… Stiles?” Scott’s voice pulled him out of his deep thoughts.

“Huh, wha…?” the boy blinked, looking around.

“There was someone else there with you?” Scott asked again in that tone which made Stiles want to hide in the darkest corner of the Earth to not be found guilty. He sighed and nodded.

“Yes.” Stiles whispered as if saying it out loud would make Peter appear again, or someone would jump in through the window and arrest him on the spot.

“But what if that someone tells on you?!” Scott started and Stiles shook his head.

“He- he won’t, Scott, okay? He won’t, because he was- he was a familiar.” the boy said. “Give me the book!” he started when he noticed the utterly confused expression on his friend’s face. Scott frowned and moved to get the book from the desk, handing it to Stiles.

Stiles sat up in his bed and opened the Book. He could feel the power run under his fingers as he was stroking the pages. All these spells were itching to be used by him and Stiles knew he had the power and the talent. He knew it before, but now he had evidence too. He proved it to himself and almost died in the process… These days not everyone could possess the power of magic, but he knew he did. Stiles could feel his powers since when he was very little. It wasn’t anything particular, it was something that came naturally to him.

“You can read this?” Scott’s voice came from next to him as he was looking into the book too. Stiles grinned and nodded. Spellbooks were usually enchanted and only those with magical talent could read them. This was the reason many people who wanted to learn magic had to find different goals in life, because once they couldn’t read Spellbooks it was over. Of course there were also people who could read Spellbooks, but had no magic to cast spells.

“So… the guy who was with me was a familiar. A wolf.” Stiles started when he reached the page. He blinked at the moment of silence that followed. But when Scott realized it was stretching a bit long, he nodded.

“Oh, okay, a wolf, I see.”

“You have no damn idea what that means, right?” Stiles sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Dude, I’m not a mage, I’m a werewolf, of course I don’t know.” Scott sighed. So Stiles started his explanation. He turned the book toward Scott, showing him the page with the summoning spell.

“This right here? It’s a spell to summon a familiar. A familiar’s usually a companion in the form of an animal, you know? It’s like you’re summoning a pet which sticks with you until the day you die.” Stiles explained with a slight flail of his hands. Scott’s eyes widened at him. “But yeah, there are like consequences, you know, this spell’s actually tricky, it has these small letter parts. To trick the mage.” Stiles muttered, squinting his eyes at the text. “Familiars are entirely dependent on you and while they are alive in our world they share their soul with you and that’s their primary life force.”

“That’s badass.” Scott gasped, trying to read the book again. “So you summoned a pet…?”

“No, they aren’t pets, Scott. They’re just _like_ pets. They can communicate with their masters and share knowledge. They can even use magic on their own. They’re like companions for mages. Helpers, mostly.” Stiles explained.

“Okay, so you summoned a familiar to help you?” Scott asked and Stiles felt his stomach sink as he was thinking about it. He was on the verge of death, he felt like his life was slowly chipping away from his body along with the wings. He was barely thinking when he remembered the spell about the familiars. Only because it was a spell he read over one too many times when he was just dreaming of using his powers for real.

“Yes.” Stiles nodded, staring down at the lines of the spell written on a language only he could read. “I was so scared, Scott.” he muttered suddenly. “I thought I’ll die. I was so scared…”

“Stiles…” Scott started, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “But you’re fine, you could do it. And you’re back.” he smiled a little and Stiles shivered. He knew he will need time to process all that happened. The wings, the blood, Peter… everything. Even what Peter told him before Stiles burned him. It was only just a few words, but as time went by they were more and more nagging in Stiles’ mind, together with Peter’s presence too. There was something about that wolf…

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.” Stiles started, clearing his throat when he caught himself being too silent. “And sorry, I won’t be able to go and practice with you for a few days. Dad told me to come home after school. You need to practice your werewolf mojo alone.”

“It’s fine, dude, I’m getting better. I woke in the woods only twice last week.” Scott grinned.

“That’s pathetic Scott, oh my god.” Stiles chuckled a little, rubbing his forehead. Part of his eagerness to practice magic was to help Scott find control. To finally call himself a proper werewolf instead of that beast he was. Thankfully Scott hadn’t hurt anyone yet and Stiles wanted to keep it that way.

\--

"Scott's telling you _everything_ now?" Stiles groaned, starting his nervous pace around Deaton’s office. Scott wasn’t actually the reason he was here, but his father. Ever since his little escape and adventure his father was looking out for him more. And by looking out for him he believed that if Stiles would talk to someone magically talented, he would understand how magic is dangerous. And that Scott was blabbing Deaton about what Stiles told him before didn’t exactly help.

Deaton was also practicing some low level spells during his job. Officially he was a veterinarian. He used spells to close wounds, to draw poison out and he had some medicine he made himself too. Stiles was always fascinated by these small practices and at times he remembered his mother seeking out Deaton for advice, and the other way around too. That’s why he figured his father thought it would be a good idea for Stiles to talk to Deaton as well.

"He has that tendency, yes." Deaton chuckled, watching the boy pace around. He leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. “So you summoned a familiar.” Deaton started. The boy sighed, shrugging. He was kind of proud of what he had done, but the expression his friend’s boss was making wasn’t too promising. So he tried to appear looking guilty.

“Does it matter?” Stiles asked, though the way the vet was looking at him made him wonder if it indeed matters.

“Summoning spells are rather difficult, they require a lot of energy and talent. And after all it’s not like you’re surrounded by many magically talented to seek advice with.” the doctor remarked and Stiles rolled his eyes. That was his damn problem. He was living in a small town surrounded by people who were mostly frightened by magic. They were a bit aware of his mother too for this reason. But she was an angel, so everyone accepted her after a while. Though, she never really practiced her magic too often in front of people.

“Yeah, so what if I summoned one. Doesn’t it mean I’m awesome then?” Stiles started when Deaton was just watching him, probably waiting for some explanation or apology or Stiles had no idea what exactly. “It was a wolf too, if you wanna know.” Stiles bragged a little. But of course the man just frowned at him instead.

“Stiles, wolf familiars are extremely difficult to tame. They aren’t like any other familiars.” Deaton started and Stiles snorted. Even if he knew that the vet must be right. Peter felt like something very heavy in the middle of his chest. He felt like rocks tied to his limbs, yet Stiles never felt warmer in his life in the wolf’s presence. But he would never tell it to anyone, especially not to someone who was trying to get him to stop using his talent.

“I’m just saying that it was a dangerous move, Stiles. If you want to practice magic, I can help you, I can give you advice. I can even help you persuade your father to let you have the license to practice magic, but never, ever try to cast a spell alone again. Especially not a summoning spell.” Deaton warned. “If neither of these things would stop you, just remember that it’s not allowed without a license.”

“Well, I don’t know, it went quite well last time. If I wasn’t summoning him I would be dead. Peter saved me from turning into some bloody pulp with wings.” Stiles remarked frowning.

“’Peter’?” Deaton frowned. “Was it his name or it was a name you gave him?”

“It was his name.” Stiles said. “Why, not all familiars have names?”

“They don’t.” the vet answered, raising an eyebrow. The boy blinked at him a bit surprised. “Their Masters are the ones giving names to familiars. It’s a part of their pact. The pact that states that the Master owns the familiar. The fact that your summoned wolf familiar had a name on his own means he isn’t a good familiar, Stiles. You were lucky you made it out alive.”

Once again, Stiles felt anger rising in him. He knew Deaton was trying to make him see how dangerous magic was, but he still wasn’t convinced. Even after he almost died. Even after he saw Peter’s dark mind, even if he was waking from nightmares ever since that day… he still wanted to practice magic. And summon Peter. Stiles wanted to show the world that magic wasn’t as evil and mysterious as everyone thought it was.

And the more people went against him, the harder he wanted to try.

“Well, I’m indeed damn lucky then, huh.” Stiles huffed and turned to finally leave, not wanting to listen to any other lectures. He can tell his father that he listened to Deaton’s warning words and he indeed listened. He should be left alone already.

On his way back home he couldn’t stop thinking about Peter and wolf familiars. So they were difficult to tame, and yet… Stiles remembered how Peter actually obeyed his orders back then, even if he was weak and scared. He could control the wolf. And Peter offered him knowledge and that was exactly what Stiles needed right now. When no one wanted to believe in him, when everyone told him how magic was dangerous and how he should be careful. Stiles looked inside Peter’s head, he could see that the wolf was smart and he had knowledge. Yes, he was cruel, and Stiles could feel bloodlust and greed, but he was just a familiar, wasn’t he? He was supposed to obey his master. And that thought couldn’t leave Stiles alone.

\--

The sheriff let Stiles keep the Spellbook and he assured him that they will talk about it. And that they will talk about his mother, but his father asked for time. Because he still needed some. Because he spent more time with his wife than Stiles spent with his mother. They knew each other in a different way and the sheriff admitted that it wasn’t easy to handle her death. So Stiles stopped asking about her and he decided to stop talking about magic.

Stiles’ father wanted him to keep two promises. One was that he will wait for him until he is ready to talk about his mother and her death. The other promise was that he absolutely won't practice magic of any sort. Stiles agreed, saying he will keep the promise, though he didn't say which one.

\--

The Astral Plane wasn’t empty. But the experience a familiar got from it made it seem like it was empty. There weren’t things on the Astral Plane. There was nothing… Only Peter and his home: a burned out house with a small garden, which had a huge, dead tree in it. It was still empty and yet not silent. Never silent.

The noises of the house were almost menacing. If Peter had no idea of the true face of evil, he would have been scared. But instead it just annoyed him to no end, even after thousands of years. The noises of the house, the moans and groans of the burned wood, the crumbling of the stone walls and that awful buzzing caused by god knows what. Therefore the wolf preferred to be outside in the garden, sitting by the dead tree. The dead tree which grew a bud. It was a small, green bud on one of the branches despite there being no living things on the Astral Plane.

Peter was alone and yet he felt like something or someone was watching him, but that wasn’t exactly the reason he felt anxious. Somehow he was sure that life budding on that tree meant something, not something particularly bad, but it filled him with unease. It signed change and change wasn’t always good. Especially after thousands of years without any change.

"Oh, the big bad wolf found something he's afraid of too?" Peter heard a voice echoing in the emptiness around him. It wasn't coming from inside his head, but from around. It was rare even for familiars to visit each other on the Astral Plane. They were interacting mostly when they were summoned and for the most part in the Natural World. But Peter tried not to show his surprise, definitely not his fear. He slowly got on his feet and looked around, searching for the source of the voice, even if it was difficult, considering it was echoing all around.

"Scaredy wolf, scaredy wolf." the voice sing-songed as Peter couldn’t help his growl. No one would insult him in his 'home'. Well, in the place he should call his home.

"Who's there?" Peter asked in a snarl, just to receive amused laughter.

"The boy without a name. He's gonna call for you again, you better wolf up. You can prove your worth." the voice laughed, turning into some kind of high pitched barking. Like one of a fox and Peter groaned. Foxes and wolves could never get along.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy.

Peter knew, even without the fox telling him, that he will be summoned again by that boy. That boy without a name. The boy with the powerful magic in his soul which  he had no damn idea about. The boy who might be the key to Peter’s freedom and to break his curse. Despite the fact that he believed that the tree budding life on a lifeless plane was also connected to the boy, Peter was terrified of that bud. So much he didn’t even attempt to get rid of it. After all, things couldn’t be killed on the Astral Plane, because they were not alive. And yet, he had life growing in his backyard and it was making Peter scared.

But Peter was looking forward meeting with the boy again.

Peter was a familiar, but he wasn't like other familiars. He could break his master's orders, he had a will of his own if he wanted to. He also had a name of his own, without having to receive one from his Masters. But yet, he still depended on his master's life force and their soul. Peter's soul wasn't whole in itself which was true for all the familiars. They were only slaves in their master's hands and the wolf could never accept that. He had so much pride that other familiars always told him that he wasn't born from magic, and he definitely wasn’t from the Astral Plane... And it pissed him off more than anything. Because it meant that sometime, somewhere, someone deliberately went out to take his soul and crush it into pieces and reduce him to what he was right now. Half animal and half something else that was supposed to serve people on the other Planes, mostly on the Natural World.

As the wolf was thinking about it, he felt the all too familiar pull, the tug, the travel to the natural world. His body dying on the Astral Plane just to be reborn with the help of his Master’s magic on the Prime Material Plane. The summoning was just as powerful as the time he arrived back to the Natural World and met with Stiles, bloodstained and on the verge of death. Peter received his full physical powers back, along with most of his magic, and ever since he was dreaming of that feeling. The feeling of being whole, of being able to be himself in a human body. It was a rare treat, because most experienced mages were making sure not to summon a familiar in its full power. They were aware how strong some familiars can be, especially Peter. Mages who were dealing with Peter tried to restrain him, put him in shackles, only summoning him in wolf form to try and tame and contain him. But he never listened and with time he grew strong enough to oppose his masters.

And then, there was this boy, Stiles, who summoned him with all his powers and looked into his eyes without fear. Yet, it wasn’t bravery, Peter knew, Stiles was just reckless.

As Peter opened his human eyes the first thing he could see was Stiles. Without wings this time, without desperation making his throat tight and his voice hoarse. Oh, but his eyes were burning just as intense as Peter remembered. The wolf’s lips slowly pulled into a smirk as he felt his soul connect to the boy’s and as more power filled his limbs. Yes, this was his chance.

"Now, this isn't like last time." Peter smiled like a wolf, his eyes flaring up electric blue from excitement. He could feel the tension from Stiles’ body; the way his shoulders tensed and how his teeth raked over his lower lip in a nervous, but determined manner. “You specially summoned me this time, Master.” the wolf remarked and Stiles nodded slowly, not looking away from him, as if he was afraid Peter would bolt.

But Peter wouldn’t run, oh no. He would strike first anyway.

Stiles took a deep breath, holding a cloth against the wound he made on his arm for the spell. Last time he didn’t have to cut himself, he already had enough blood to summon a familiar after all. Peter couldn’t help chuckling a little at the memory. He still felt the warmth of the boy against him when he was holding him and tore off the wings from his back. Peter remembered Stiles’ fear and his confusion and also his weakness. He also remembered how his fear of death cut into his own soul unlike anything else he felt before. But it was something he refused to think too much about.

The boy was really lucky Peter didn’t strike him the first time and didn’t drain his powers. Even Peter was wondering why exactly he hadn’t done it. He had the chance, it was an easy kill and yet, Stiles’ order to help him was much stronger than his greed for power.

“You told me you can show me things.” Stiles started, breaking the silence that was stretching too long between them. His tongue licked his dry lips and Peter found himself strangely fascinated by the small movement.

“I indeed said that.” the wolf smiled, tilting his head to the side as his cold gaze was resting on Stiles’ face. “But how would you know that offer still stands? You broke our first pact, why would I offer the same again?” he asked in a low voice.

“Because I will order you, because you have to obey to me.” Stiles said and Peter could spot a hint of hesitation. A hint of fear. And that was more than enough for him. Oh, how many mages were demanding the same and thinking they can tame him with orders and their little spells and with their fierce eyes.

“Now now, Stiles.” the wolf chuckled softly and moved closer to the boy. For his record, Stiles didn’t step back, even when Peter stopped right in front of him, feeling the warmth of the boy’s body just like when they first met. “Have you even heard of me before?” the familiar asked smiling, though his voice was deep from the growl that was rumbling in his chest.

Judging by the skip in Stiles’ heartbeat, he may have heard of Peter’s reputation on the Natural World. Fine. Peter also remembered that Stiles could look into his head the last time and who knows what he could see there, or how much exactly.

Many books have been written about the familiars. They listed what kind of animals they summoned as familiars before and which one could turn into a human. Some of them were more popular than the rest. For example, mages would rather summon a dog or a cat, even an owl than a rat or a snake. There were gossips about bug familiars, and familiars who had no physical body, but just the raw soul appearing for the Master. And also, there were the wild animals: the foxes, the wolves, eagles, ravens and many more. The difference was that these wild familiars took a lot of magical energy to summon and they also demanded a higher level of maintenance. Only the most powerful mages were able to summon these familiars to their side and they got knowledge and power in return. A strong familiar could act as a guard and a teacher to the one who summoned them, besides that they were still practically servants for their masters.

Stiles must have known that Peter, as a wolf familiar, was a special case. But the wolf wondered if he ever heard of _him_ especially. Because he knew he had a reputation amongst familiars and even amongst the magically talented. On more than one occasion mages summoned him to ask for his knowledge and demanded him to follow them. If they were weak and could not make Peter obey, he would smite them on the spot. Of course, sometimes they could hold on for a few years, when either Peter went against his master or the master burned him, being afraid of his growing powers.

All mages were afraid of Peter and his power, but they were tempted to summon him for all the collected knowledge, taken that he has been serving under the most significant Spellmasters. Some even said that he was a demon and Peter was fine with that. Except demons didn’t have masters and they didn’t have to stay on the Natural World for longer than their task.

And this time, this boy, Stiles, had summoned Peter for the exact same reason as many mages before him: for knowledge. Though as Peter asked his question he could see that Stiles had such little idea about him, and that was just fine. That was _splendid_.

“I know enough, okay?” Stiles started a little impatient. “I know you’re a wolf and that I could summon you for the second time means I’m something pretty great.” he spoke, and sweat broke over his upper lip. The boy was afraid which was of course understandable and it almost made him precious in Peter’s eyes. He smiled fondly, listening to the last speech of the nameless boy before he would tear his throat out. Peter also refused to think about how the voice of Stiles filled him with something that can be called peace. “So it also means- it means I can order you and you will obey.”

“Oh, you poor boy. Just because you could summon a powerful familiar doesn’t mean you’re capable enough. I’m not sure you’ve done your homework well, kid.” Peter chuckled and raised his hand, releasing his claws. He was ready to take Stiles’ life and drain his magic.

“I forbid you to hurt me.” Stiles shouted as he noticed Peter’s movement. The order hit Peter like a punch in the gut, making his movements come to a halt. He strained against the order, against the magic that tied him up and he could see that Stiles was doing the same. The boy was afraid of death and he was afraid of Peter and that made his magic focused on that one order. There was a tense minute where Peter was trying to finish the strike, but never could and Stiles was standing there, waiting.

And in the end, Peter pulled his hand back, glaring at his Master.

“Holy shit.” Stiles gasped when it was clear that the familiar won’t tear his throat out then and there. “Holy shit, oh god, oh god I did it.” he gasped, breaking the stillness of his movements and started walking around the small room. Suddenly twitchiness and buzz returned into Stiles limbs, almost making Peter’s head hurt. “I fucking did it! I tamed you!”

“Would you try and take all that childish euphoria away from me, it’s getting on my nerves.” the wolf sighed long and suffering, looking around the place finally. A bathroom. Really? He also took the chance to raid Stiles’ mind to catch up since the last time he was summoned on this world. It has been more than a hundred years and technology has indeed been developing in a rapid state. Humans really were trying to get rid of magic.

“Oh man, I have so many questions. Dude, this is awesome, I can’t wait to show you to Scott! I’m gonna show them I could do it!” Stiles grinned up at the wolf and Peter sent him a mental image of Stiles’ dead body being eaten by vultures to express his true thoughts about this. “Jesus, man, trigger warning, ugh!” Stiles grimaced, cupping his forehead. “And I told you to keep out of my head last time.”

“You have to give me all the orders again, Master, as you broke our last pact.” Peter explained and almost rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to working under a Master who summoned him in a bathroom and smelled like peanut butter and chocolate. A Master whose pain he could feel deep in his chest where his heart was supposed to be…

“Okay, okay, orders, uuuh…” Stiles started as he was pacing around the bathroom, his arms flailing around with every step. “I forbid you to hurt my friends and family. I think that’s the most important, yes. It should do.” Stiles licked his lips and Peter truly started to be frustrated. He hated to be handled so lightly by a mage who seemingly had no idea of his own true potential or what Peter was capable of doing. But the wolf wasn’t in a hurry to enlighten this incompetent novice of any of that.

“Done.” Peter sighed and moved toward the door, just to have Stiles slam into it himself and shield it from him. The boy was looking up at the wolf with huge, scared eyes and Peter felt a rush of reminiscence of some sort. It was a fond, warm feeling, unlike he thought it would be like to be seeing someone scared of him and it confused him for a second.

“Where- where are you goin’?” Stiles asked frowning, pressing his shoulders against the door. As if that could stop Peter from going out.

“As a matter of fact, Master, I’m hungry.” Peter sighed and moved to get the door. Actually, he could have just teleported himself into the kitchen, but he always liked to be a little trouble for his masters. And he just knew he will have all the fun with this one.

“Wha- really? Like, you guys eat proper food and stuff?” Stiles frowned, scrambling to keep the door closed. Peter just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not sure you are familiar with the concept of all living creatures needing some kind of source of energy.” the wolf started and tilted his head to the side, eying the boy as if he’d never seen something more outrageous in his life.

“Yeah, but I thought your energy comes from me, I mean-“ Stiles frowned and finally opened the door and motioned Peter to follow him. Though even if he said nothing, the familiar would have known to follow him. He was connected to Stiles in mind and in soul, he could read his Master’s thoughts so far as Stiles didn’t forbid him to do that yet.

“My magical energy indeed comes from my Master. But to maintain this body on this world, I need food.” Peter chuckled, checking his reflection in a mirror as they were walking to the kitchen. Handsome as he remembered, though he may need a haircut and modern clothes instead of his 1910’s suit.

There was no one home, but Peter smelled another man in the house. Probably Stiles’ father. Though there was one more there, someone who was absent for a long time now.

“Damn, I didn’t think of that.” Stiles huffed as he went and opened the fridge.

“What? That living creatures need to eat too? Now, that’s alarming.” Peter snorted and looked into the fridge over Stiles’ shoulder. He could actually manage without food, but when he was in his full strength he could also enjoy the treats of the Natural World, like scents and tastes and he knew that he just loved meat of all kind. Especially steak.

“You really want steak, Peter?” Stiles turned his head at him and the wolf blinked back. Did he tell his name before? Or Stiles could find that in his head too? Along with his desire for steak. But after his first confusion, Peter just smirked at him.

“I’d love to.” he said and went to throw himself down on one of the chairs. His master just glared at him for a while, then turned back to the fridge.

“How about ham and cheese sandwich and meanwhile I set our rules, deal?” Stiles asked and Peter shook his head.

“We’ll see. It must be one hell of a sandwich.” the familiar retorted, looking around the kitchen with a bored gaze.

“First of all, I don’t want my father to see you. Not yet.” Stiles started as he was starting to make the sandwich. Peter nodded.

“And how do you want to manage that?”

“I was wondering if you could, you know, turn into a wolf and have some nice cozy place in the woods, or something.” the boy explained, waving around his knife before he buttered the bread. “And that would also solve the problem of feeding you.”

“Well I’m terribly sorry that your key to knowledge has needs and doesn’t want to be treated like some dog you own.” Peter rolled his eyes. Of course, he could do that, but he won’t. Not when he had a human body which could feel everything.

“But you can’t be seen by my father.” his master turned to him again, frowning. Peter cocked his chin up, eying him with amusement glinting in his eyes.

“That’s not exactly my problem, is it?” he said, spreading his arms and loving the angry blush crawling up on Stiles’ cheeks. It was almost adorable. Almost.

“Alright, then let’s do it like this: I forbid you to be seen by my father.” Stiles said waving the knife at him. Peter rolled his eyes.

‘ _And when can we get to the part where I’m allowed to do things?_ ’ he asked directly projecting his question in Stiles’ head, making the boy flinch.

“Stop that!” Stiles groaned.

‘ _We’re connected in soul and mind, Master, this is something you can’t exactly forbid me._ ’ Peter grinned just to have a plate slammed down in front of him on the table. Stiles was looking at him with dark eyes and once again, Peter felt something awfully nostalgic about him. Which bothered him to no end, because it was something he never encountered before. No master should have an effect like this on him.

“I can forbid you to stop sneaking around in my head at least?” Stiles asked, suddenly serious and Peter squinted his eyes at him. As that whiskey colored gaze was seeking his face he could just slowly nod. And there was the order, he couldn’t look into his Master’s thoughts. Well, not into the deepest ones anyway. “Good.” Stiles sighed, sitting down on one of the chairs too.

Peter was eying his new Master, truly looking at him for the first time. He was young and troubled. He lost someone he loved and that gave him some sharpness only people who saw death in the face were familiar with. His powers were running in his veins with such a rush that Peter could almost feel it on his own skin. And there was something more to him. It wasn’t his eyes which sought out Peter’s gaze, or his rapid, determined heartbeat, but something else. Stiles had something that made Peter feel warm and content and he was trying to fight against it with all his might. For his luck, Stiles didn’t seem to notice that he had such an effect on Peter, though he didn’t seem to notice many other things either.

“I have to warn you, Master.” Peter started, reaching for his food then. “Giving orders is also a demanding task for a mage. Just like handling a familiar.”

“That’s why I feel like shit just from talking to you?” Stiles groaned, putting his elbows on the table.

“Could be just my charming personality, but yes, mostly because of that.” the familiar remarked and took a bite from his food. He refused to groan at the taste. It was some dry bread with ham and cheese, but it was still delicious. After all, he had no food on the Astral Plane, he didn’t need any. Stiles grunted and looked up at Peter without saying anything. The familiar just raised an amused eyebrow at him, taking his first meal in more than a hundred years.

The silence on the Natural World was different than on the Astral Plane. Peter could never explain it, but silence was heavier, more meaningful than when he was back in his natural form. Probably because there were so many creatures and living things on this plane that when the silence was stretching too long it always meant danger or that something will happen. Something big. And Peter hated silence, so he opened his mouth to remark on the curtains, but as he looked at Stiles he realized why the silence was too long.

Stiles fell asleep with his head lying on his forearms.

And Peter got truly offended. Because when he was around everyone should pay attention to him. He was an infamous and cruel familiar, feared by mages in at least three other Planes and then there was this kid who _fell asleep_ in his presence. If the wolf thought Stiles was irresponsible before, now he was straight out acting like a fool. Peter didn’t even remember when any of his Masters dared to sleep in his presence, without either tying him with wolfsbane ropes or orders. No one ever trusted him that much. Most probably Stiles wasn’t one to trust him either, he was just a clueless teenager, wanting to prove his worth after everyone telling him to do something else.

Peter rolled his eyes and stood up, not exactly sure what he was about to do yet. He walked next to Stiles and raised his hand once again, waiting for his orders to stop his movements, but they never did. Because he didn’t want to hurt Stiles, he realized it as his fingers dug into that messy, dark brown hair, stroking his head. Peter immediately pulled back, bewildered. Because it was one thing he felt Stiles deeper than was acceptable, but he never wanted to act on that. He even took a step back, looking around in confusion, seeking any kind of distraction. As he moved he spotted himself in the reflection of a window and realized his clothes weren’t exactly fitting to the current age.

The last time Peter had been summoned was around the beginning of the 1900’s if he was remembering right, and apparently the suit he was wearing when he was summoned wouldn’t do in this era. So the wolf decided he will go shopping and try to get rid of that stupid ‘affection’ he seemed to develop toward his newest master. But before he walked out the door he turned to take the sandwich with him.

\--

What Stiles felt was beyond being nervous. It was something more, something that made him almost lose all the leftover control of his limbs. And his stomach. He wondered if prisoners with a death sentence would feel like this on the day of their last meal. No, no they were calm unlike him. Stiles was the anti-example of being calm, he wasn’t calm at all. Stiles figured his current problem may have something to do with the fact that he lost a bloodthirsty, powerful familiar during the night. There was a supernatural murderer with all the magical talent walking the Earth all free to do whatever he wanted and it was all Stiles’ fault.

His father was the one waking Stiles up when he got home from his night shift in the morning. He could come up with a weak explanation that he was sleepwalking and that is why he was sleeping on the kitchen table, but since he was still wearing his day clothes, Stiles knew his father wouldn’t really believe him. But what else he could tell him? ‘Hey dad, sorry I summoned some serial killer and I fell asleep while I was supposed to watch him. My bad?’ No, definitely not. Stiles gave a frustrated noise and hit the steering wheel of his jeep once again. He desperately hoped two things: either Peter will come back or that there was a spell that could track familiars because he would need it in the future if things going to be like this.

Stiles stumbled out of his jeep, still cooking in his own rage and misery as he arrived at the school. He had to find Peter and he had to do it fast.

“Dude, you don’t look good at all, everything’s fine?” Stiles heard Scott’s voice as he took his backpack, heavy with the Spellbook he took to school in hopes of peeking into it during any free time he had to find a solution for his current problem.

“Yeah- yeah, I just- I was just- holy crap, dude!” Stiles started, though as he raised his eyes at Scott he flailed a little. “Okay, that’s- that’s new…!” he pointed at his friend, utterly baffled by what he’d seen.

“Why, what, what’s wrong?” Scott asked alarmed and brushed his own cheek to try and find out why on Earth Stiles was gaping at him as if he’d seen a ghost. And Stiles couldn’t exactly answer. He had no idea how he could explain.

It wasn’t like there was anything different about Scott, Stiles noticed, but there was still something more. It was like Scott was showing him _all of him_.

“It’s… it’s just I think I can see the wolf in ya.” Stiles muttered when he realized what he was actually seeing, staring at Scott. His friend was looking _strong_ and his eyes were red if Stiles concentrated enough on him. “I can see your wolf.” Stiles repeated and his lips pulled into a fascinated smile, creeping Scott out even more.

“That’s great, man.” Scott started a little disturbed. Then he reached out, put his hand on Stiles’ arm and leaned closer. “I really hope you’re alright, you look like shit.”

Stiles frowned, staring at Scott, because he just couldn’t get enough of this new talent. Was it because of Peter?

“And you look really cool, Scott.”

“That’s enough now, you’re really creeping me out.” Scott sighed, shaking his head.

“Why, should I tell you that you look like crap too or what?” Stiles snorted.

“Yes. No! Wait, I…” the wolf groaned, laughing a little. “I just hope everything’s fine, okay?” he said with a sigh and started walking toward the school yard.

“Yeah, it’s more than okay, Scott, everything is fine, holy shit!” Stiles nodded as they started walking, just to be welcomed by the best sight of his life. It was like a new world was opening up for him right as he was walking. He could _see_.

Now, if anyone had asked him what he could see, he would say that he could see _everything_. Stiles could see who had even a little bit of magical talent, just a few of the students. Also, as they were walking the school corridors, he could spot similar creatures to Scott. There were other werewolves around. And lizards.

“What are you lookin’ at, nerd?” Jackson Whittemore snarled at him as Stiles was staring at him with a gaping mouth.

“You have a tail.” Stiles answered too amused for his own good, just to get a confused look from Jackson as he passed him.

“A tail?” Scott frowned at Stiles as they got into the classroom. “Stiles are you sure you’re okay, I mean…”

“I’m fine, I’m really fine! I’m just really, really excited now, Scott, you have no idea!” Stiles grinned, slamming his backpack down on the desk. As he spotted the Spellbook though, he immediately remembered his foul mood: he was still missing a familiar of the violent kind. “Well, excited and freaked the hell out.” he sighed and wondered if he could ever tell it to Scott. But he will have to. Mostly because he told everything to Scott. It was easier that way, even if his best friend sometimes couldn’t really understand him. But he was there and that was enough.

“You cast a spell again, didn’t you?” Scott sighed quietly then and Stiles looked at him, his tongue swiping over his lower lip.

“Maybe.” Stiles swallowed, looking back into Scott’s eyes. “A tiny, little, itty-bitty spell.”

“Are we all gonna die?” the wolf asked and Stiles really wished he could say no to that.

“Uhm, well, I don’t think all of us.” he winced a little nervous again. “But never fear, Scott, I have a solution. Somewhere.” Stiles added and opened his Spellbook, the same time Lydia Martin was walking into class too. And no matter how freaked out Stiles was, his daily Lydia dose was always a breeze.

Though, as Stiles was looking up at his childhood crush to see those red locks and her current shade of lipstick, he also spotted something else. Lydia was _something_.

Lydia wasn’t a werewolf. She wasn’t as vibrant and strong as the ones with the powers of the wolf, but she was almost gloomy, despite her colorful flowery dress. Stiles gaped once again, staring at her even more intense than before as if that would tell him what kind of powers Lydia possessed.

“He’s staring more than usual.” Stiles heard a voice suddenly, coming from Lydia’s direction. But it wasn’t hers.

“I noticed.” Lydia answered under her breath as she was taking her notebook out of her bag. “He must have forgotten his meds today.” she sighed annoyed and Stiles felt just a slightly bit disturbed that the conversation was about him and that Lydia knew that he was on medication.

“I don’t think it’s just that, he’s really staring. Like he could see.” the other voice snorted and Stiles shook his head, because there was no one talking to Lydia. There was no one standing near her at all, and yet…

“Jesus Christ.” Stiles gasped when he finally spotted who Lydia was talking to and his body moved without his will, jumping up from his desk. He was staring at the girl standing by Lydia’s desk. She was the one talking to her and that was all fine and dandy.

Until Stiles realized that the girl was Allison Argent who was killed months ago in a knife fight. The official version of her death was that they were trying to mug her on her way home and stabbed her, causing her to bleed to death. But Stiles saw the pictures and he knew that it was not a mugging, because there was nothing taken from her and the wounds were bigger than a knife. It was almost like a sword fight. And not even the press knew about the bow she carried with herself. It was one of the cases Stiles was thinking about for weeks, because it never added up. And it was always tragic to lose someone that young, especially in such a violent way.

But now that dead girl, Allison Argent was standing by Lydia, having a normal conversation as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t suffered a horrible death, bleeding out in a back alley. Stiles wounded around, trying to check if other people were just as freaked out, but his classmates were just staring at _him_. While there was a ghost standing with them in the classroom.

“Yes, I think he definitely can see.” Allison nodded, her lips pursed in embarrassment as she was eying Stiles.

Lydia just squinted her eyes at Stiles, as if this was the first time she’d ever seen him and maybe it really was. She was one of the popular girls, not paying much attention to people on Stiles’ level. Of course the boy knew that, he was too nerdy, too weird for ‘normal’ people, especially with his mother being a witch. But his dreams were always wild: being a Spellmaster, marrying Lydia Martin, having wonderful and magically talented, redhead children and of course owning the rights to all of Marvel. But one thing at a time.

“Mr. Stilinski, please have a seat, we have much to cover today.” Ms. Blake’s voice was snapping Stiles back to reality. And Scott was the one dragging him back down on his seat.

“Stiles, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Scott hissed, shaking his friend a little. Stiles knew Scott was getting more and more worried as he was acting more like a nutjob, but he couldn’t help it. The world was opening up for him and he just tried to take it all in.

“I see dead people.” Stiles whispered, turning to Scott and staring into his the eyes, hating how the reference just flew over Scott’s head once again. Damn, he should really educate his friend on popular culture. Even if Stiles wondered whether Sixth sense was a part of popular culture, but it must be because Bruce Willis is popular and damn he should have taken his Adderall, because he felt his mind slipping and losing his focus once again.

“Mr. Stilinski, is everything alright?” Ms. Blake asked as she was walking next to his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. Stiles looked up at his teacher, opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He could feel Ms. Blake’s _magic_ through their touch and as Stiles was looking at her features, the more he noticed that there was a spell cloaking them. She was practically wearing a spell as a mask. Or, more like she was creating a mask with a spell.

“I uh…” Stiles stuttered, unable to say anything for a while. Ms. Blake just smiled at him for a second and squeezed his shoulder.

“Welcome aboard, Stiles.” she said quietly and while people chuckled around them, thinking she was joking about Stiles finally paying attention in class, the boy knew it wasn’t about that. Ms. Blake could also tell that he was magically talented. He was welcomed into the secret society he always wanted to belong to.

“Th-thank you.” the boy stuttered as the teacher walked back to the board and started their lesson. Stiles could barely concentrate during the lesson, he was more occupied by all the new possibilities. He wanted to tell Scott, he wanted to ask Lydia about Allison, he wanted to ask Allison about her death and he wanted to find a goddamn tracking spell to catch Peter.

In all his classes, Stiles decided to try and start with the tracking spell and meanwhile tried to feed Scott information of what was happening to him and how he summoned Peter the night before. Multitasking. And it was working horribly. Scott kept asking questions and the Spellbook kept disappointing him with useless spells that were difficult to read. And during lunch break Stiles had to add one more distraction, which wasn’t actually a distraction, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.

“Banshee.” came Lydia’s voice as her Guess bag landed in front of Stiles’ nose on their table. “It’s called a banshee and not ‘something’. Are we clear?”

“Whu…?” Stiles blinked at her, his face stuffed with french fries. Scott blinked just as intelligent at the red haired girl who apparently decided to share a table with them this time. She was gorgeous and smelled of Chanel as Scott learned later. “Banshee?” Stiles asked blinking the tears out of his eyes at the too big gulp he’d made to ask Lydia, anything to keep her there at their table and talk to them.

“Yes.” Lydia sighed, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Look it up, wizard, I’m not here to educate you after all. I just want to set things straight.” Lydia explained with a sigh as she saw Stiles’ mouth move to ask something. “As I noticed for some reason your powers are all over the place. Your sight also improved.”

“My sight…” Stiles frowned at her, because of course, his sight. He heard of that. Of people with magical talent having an improved sight which let him see all kind of magical powers and it explained why he could suddenly see all the supernatural creatures or other magically talented people like Ms. Blake.

“Yes. So try to control it, because right now it’s annoyingly flashy.” Lydia offered a tight smile. ”You’re like a beacon to all magically involved and that’s actually not a good thing. Not in Beacon Hills.” she warned, looking at Scott. “So you two, the mage and the alpha wolf, better get your stuff together.” she said and took her bag and left the boys there stunned.

“Dude, I am so turned on right now, you don’t even know.” Stiles started when he could finally find his words.

“I can smell.” Scott sighed long and suffering. Stiles just grimaced at him, because wow, if that wasn’t an invasion of privacy. But at least he had one answer to his many questions. Lydia was a banshee.

But what was a banshee…? This and a few other questions were bugging Stiles all through school, causing a few of his teachers to warn him about his lack of focus once again. As if he had any time to listen to them. He had more important things to focus on and not school. At the end of their day, Stiles wasn’t smarter about Peter’s whereabouts, but he counted one banshee, one ghost and a few more shapeshifters around. And he hated that no one was telling him about them before, not even Deaton.

“Banshees, werewolves, mages.” and one missing wolf, Stiles thought to himself as he walked to his car after school. He still couldn’t hang out with Scott because of the curfew his father put on him. But if he was honest he had other things to think about.

“Yeah, wow.” Scott muttered next to him. “And there’s one more wolf, dude.”

“One more, what?” Stiles frowned and opened the door of his jeep to throw in his backpack.

“Yeah, I met the guy yesterday in the woods. When I was trying to practice my shift.” Scott said a little carefully, looking at Stiles. The boy frowned, eying Scott. “He’s another werewolf.”

“You met another werewolf?!” Stiles gasped and felt scared for a second. Because the last time they met a werewolf in the woods, Scott ended up bitten and they both got some deep scars for life. “And what- what happened?!”

“No, it wasn’t like that. He was nice, I mean. Well, nicer.” Scott started with a heavy sigh. “He’s called Derek Hale, he said he was living in Beacon Hills for a while before he moved away.”

“Derek Hale?” Stiles frowned. He’d never heard of him and actually he was quite familiar with Beacon Hills’ history. But he’d never heard this name before. “And what is he doing here…?”

“I don’t know, he said he was just… back for some reason. I didn’t really ask. He offered to teach me.”

Stiles frowned heavily at Scott. A werewolf just appearing out of the blue, offering Scott to teach him. That was strange. That was more than strange. That Derek Hale was lying. Stiles hadn’t met him before, but he wasn’t too fond of him.

“And you trust him? After one day?” Stiles asked.

“Well… I can’t see why not? I mean, it’s not like many wolves come up to me and offer their help you know.” his friend sighed, spreading his arms.

“Yeah, but… but… he could have any hidden dark thoughts, dude. I’m not gonna approve of him until I met him!” Stiles frowned. “You're gonna meet him today too?”

“Yes, and I’ll try to be careful, okay? I mean, I killed one werewolf before, how hard is it to do it again-“

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles hissed. He didn’t want to think about that particular incident. Ever. Thankfully, Scott realized it too so he indeed fell silent.

“See you tomorrow?” the wolf asked quietly. Stiles licked his lips, looking at his friend. What could he say? That hopefully you’ll still be alive? That you trust someone else to help you be a werewolf and it may cost you a lot? But Stiles wanted Scott to gain power and strength, he needed it.

“Yeah, yeah okay…” Stiles sighed and watched his friend walk away. Hopefully not into his death. Damn it, this really was something Stiles didn’t need on top of his missing familiar problems. He groaned, leaning his forehead against the jeep. He wanted to scream, shout, kick something to get rid of all these emotions. He wanted his old life back where everything made sense. Then he decided to finally get home and think of something for at least one of his problems.

As Stiles reached for the door of the jeep, something warm filled his whole body. It was like an invisible blanket was wrapped around him in that moment, calming him down like a hug and telling him that everything will be alright. He let go of a sigh he didn’t know he was holding and his shoulders felt just a little bit lighter than that morning. It was a strange feeling, leaving him a bit confused.

But it only lasted for a second as he got the living soul scared out of him the next moment by a sudden figure appearing next to him seemingly out of thin air.

“Had a good day, Master?” Peter asked as he was leaning against the jeep. Stiles snapped his head toward him. Peter was looking much different than he’d last seen him. Last night when Stiles summoned him he looked like a gentleman from a hundred years ago with longer hair and with a ridiculous suit. But now Peter more resembled a douchebag with a white v-neck and jeans, he even had a haircut. A haircut. Stiles gave a frustrated noise and grabbed Peter’s seemingly pretty expensive shirt and attempted to shake him. Of course the familiar didn’t even budge, but did raise an annoyed eyebrow.

“Tell me you didn’t kill anyone..!” Stiles said the first thing that was on his mind all day. Peter snorted and grabbed his wrists to pry his hands off of him.

“Why, I should have?” the wolf asked and yanked Stiles’ hands off his shirt. “Relax, Master. While I indeed prefer to cause pain and suffering, I’m really not fond of killing. It rarely benefits me.” he explained so lightly that Stiles thought he will kick him. But he didn’t, because he knew Peter was serious. Peter would hurt anything and anyone and even kill them if it was bringing something good for him. But how could a familiar benefit from people’s death or even from hurting them?

Stiles was eying Peter, his head already hurting from all the questions that were buzzing around in his thoughts. And from relief actually, that Peter was here and he could keep an eye on him.

“Okay, fine, I believe you.” the boy said, licking his lips.

“Do you really?” Peter chuckled amused, tilting his head at Stiles who huffed annoyed.

“Do I have a choice?” he asked in a hoarse voice, snapping open the door of the jeep. Though as he was thinking about it, he had a choice. He could send Peter back, he could burn him again and his problems would be solved. He wouldn’t have to worry where the familiar was or who he was hurting. But Stiles chose not to do that, because Peter’s arrival already gave him so much and Stiles figured that this is what greed must feel like. Wanting more and not having enough.

Because Stiles didn’t have enough. He wanted to know everything and he wanted to get powerful.

Peter didn’t answer the question either, but judging by his amused smirk, he knew exactly that Stiles indeed had a choice and he will still chose to keep him.

“Now…” the familiar started then, stepping closer, and Stiles refused to acknowledge the skip in his heartbeat. “Do you have any questions to me, Master?” the wolf asked and Stiles felt a flush run into his cheeks.

“You have no idea.” Stiles whispered back.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy~

It was a dream, Stiles could tell. But it felt like a memory. A fond, warm memory that he would hold precious. A kind of nostalgic remembrance that would make his darkest hours brighter and his life just a tad bit happier. He felt himself smile and took a deep breath, smelling the scent of unknown flowers. Stiles couldn’t name any of them, but he knew that his Book had the same smell. He opened his eyes and stared up at a faint orange and pink colored sky, tainted by grey and white clouds. Somehow Stiles knew it was daytime and yet, some of the stars were also visible.

It was the most beautiful sky Stiles had ever seen. But it wasn’t the reason this memory felt precious to him. It was something else.

Stiles felt his body move and he sat up, just to find himself in a garden full of flowers he’d never seen before. Someone was approaching him and he felt his heart beat faster at the sight of them. Stiles could tell that the person who was walking to him was someone he held dear and for some reason his throat tightened. Was it from happiness? It felt bittersweet somehow. Stiles felt like he was waiting for something to happen and when it happened it didn’t go as he had planned it to.

The other person reached him and held their hand out for him. Stiles hesitated for a second before taking it, curiously looking at his companion. The smile he’d seen was unfamiliar and yet the feeling of their hands touching wasn’t. And then Stiles heard words, but he couldn’t understand them, yet he heard himself answer. That was why it was a precious memory, because of this person, because of their touch and the way they leaned over and placed the softest kiss on Stiles’ lips…

And that was when Stiles met with the floor of his room nose-first.

“What the fuck..!” he gasped, groaning and scrambling around to try and make sense of why he was making out with his floor so early in the morning. He was on the ground, yes that was clear but why… “Oh my god…!” Stiles shrieked, jumping up when he saw that his bed was occupied by a very large and very naked individual. Namely by his familiar, Peter.

Peter was lying naked in his bed.

Stiles knew there were many, many issues with that and his sleepy brain was trying to wake up and do _something_ about at least one of them. But then he realized that Peter was staring at him and he wasn’t bothered at all. Stiles felt himself blush which so didn’t help with trying to appear intimidating. He had a wolf to regulate after all.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?” Stiles asked, his voice higher than it should have been.

“I was asleep.” Peter answered and sat up to stretch out and Stiles couldn’t look at him anymore. He turned away, covering his burning face. So far for appearing intimidating, Peter could even do that so much more without clothes.

“But why in my bed?! And I thought familiars never sleep!” Stiles stuttered, hearing the sheets rustle as Peter probably got out of his bed.

“Where else should I sleep, Master? Tell me. Because I’m not going to sleep on the floor like some dog.” Peter answered. “And I thought you were aware that I’m not a usual familiar.” He added in a low chuckle that made Stiles want to just kick him.

“Well too bad, because you either sleep on the floor or you can find a place in the woods!” Stiles stuttered and he tensed when he felt Peter walk up to him.

“Now, I think you forget one of the most important rules of masters and familiars, Stiles.” The wolf hummed amused and Stiles turned his head toward him, because he was rather seeing him naked than not at all when he was so damn scared of him. But thankfully, Peter had put on clothes while Stiles was having a small little freak out.

“Do I? And call me master!” the boy asked in a sigh, trying to wipe off his blush.

“I’m not calling you master if you’re not fulfilling your duties.” Peter snorted, walking past Stiles to throw himself down onto the chair by his desk.

“As if you were such a good familiar since I summoned you. You disappeared for a day!” Stiles retorted, flailing his arms a little at Peter.

“But I answered all your questions without a second thought, didn’t I? Now, you know more about banshees and their connections with deceased souls than anyone in this hellhole.” the familiar sighed, raising a pointed eyebrow at Stiles. And damn it, he was right. The boy groaned in frustration.

“Okay, yes, alright. But what do I forget and why would you climb naked into my bed?!” Stiles hissed, motioning toward his messy bed. Peter chuckled, throwing his head back a little.

“Are you offended because I was in your bed, or because I was naked?” the wolf asked. “Unless, it’s both.” he smiled more, raising his gaze at Stiles and the boy tried to hide his shiver. It wasn’t from fear and that was the most disturbing about it. “In case it’s both we will have a problem, because I’m not going to sleep on the floor. And as a master your duty is to make a place for me where I can sleep.”

“That isn’t my problem!” Stiles gasped, though as Peter pinned him with his unimpressed stare he grew hesitant. “Or is it?”

“Your task is to take care of my needs.” Peter said, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. “Now, I’m sure feeding me and finding me a place where I can sleep comfortably isn’t that difficult, is it?” he asked in that smooth voice of his and Stiles fisted his hands by his sides. “Indeed, it should be a pretty simple thing.” Peter continued, his gaze flickering on the bed for a second. And Stiles gaped.

“You want the bed?” he asked, pointing at the newest subject of their debate.

“It smells foul and needs a change of sheets, but other than that yes I’m accepting your offer, how nice of you.” Peter smiled too widely for Stiles’ taste.

“I didn’t say you can have it yet!”

“But I did.” the wolf huffed, looking at Stiles in a way that showed that the argument has ended. Stiles knew that Peter was used to getting everything, but this was just ridiculous.

“And where should I sleep then?” Stiles asked, mostly to himself as he turned to look around the messy room to find any kind of answer.

“You can sleep on the floor or find a place for yourself in the woods.” Peter chatted, just to receive his master’s annoyed gaze once again. “It doesn’t sound too promising when it’s said to you, does it?” he smirked and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get dramatic at me at five in the morning, Christ.” the boy groaned, rubbing his eyes. So much for sleeping, he figured. He sighed long and suffering and sat down on his bed. He wondered if putting up with Peter’s whiny nature will benefit him in any way, but he figured it's still the most he could find out about magic than from anyone else. Despite Peter being a noisy, murderous familiar, he didn't kill anyone yet, and he was fairly cooperative. "Listen..." Stiles started, looking up at the wolf, just to find him reading into the Spellbook again.

"What the fuck, I told you not to look into the book!" Stiles gasped and jumped to take it from Peter, but the wolf was faster and snapped it closed, glaring up at the boy.

"As a matter of fact, you didn't." Peter said, pinning his master with his gaze. "That order was valid during our first pact and I wish you would at least remember the basic things about familiars, because I'm getting bored repeating them."

"Oh no, you don't get to have the higher ground with me. You know that familiars are forbidden to look into spellbooks in the first place! You know that too well." Stiles hissed and made a grab at the book, but Peter pulled it out of his reach and stood from the chair.

"Why do you think familiars can't look into spellbooks, master?" Peter asked in a low voice, keeping the book away from Stiles’ reach. "Did you ever think about that or you'd just blindly follow all half-assed rule you heard about magic and spells?" he asked, his eyes flashing up blue, making Stiles’ stomach drop in fear. He could tell that this question was more serious than Peter wants to show it. Maybe for both of them.

"I- I don’t know..." Stiles started, licking his lips, eying Peter and the book. "I suppose it's so the familiar doesn't outgrow the master." he said, stepping closer. "Give me the book, Peter!" he ordered and he saw the wolf's muscles tense as the order started to force him to hand over the spellbook. But Peter didn't budge. "What...?" Stiles gasped. Peter could fight his orders? No, that was impossible, no familiars could go against orders. "Wha.... how can you do that?"

"I told you, I'm not your usual familiar and you still keep handling me like I was some dog by your shoes." Peter growled, his neck tense as he was still fighting the order. Stiles swallowed and opened his mouth to give the order again. He was afraid and nervous, because if Peter can go against his commands then no one was safe and all those dreadful things he saw in Peter's mind when they first met will come true.

"Give me the book, Peter..." Stiles hissed again, holding out his hand for the book and Peter groaned, handing it over finally. The boy took it and moved back, hugging it to his chest and looking at Peter with wide eyes as if it would be the first time he saw him. And maybe it was. He could finally see why Peter was so confident: because if he chose, he could go against his masters. Stiles couldn’t believe it, but apparently, it was true. And that was a problem.

"Then tell me, oh my Master, how do you think familiars can overgrow their masters when they do not possess magic as powerful as the mages?" Peter asked a little out of breath.

"I don’t know!" Stiles shouted. “I guess there are some spells?!” Stiles asked back desperately, swallowing. He was shaking a little from fear and by the whole gravity of what he just witnessed.

"Yes." the wolf nodded, his voice filled with an emotion Stiles couldn't really identify. Possibly anger, but Peter felt more desperate. Because Stiles could feel Peter, he could actually tell that he wasn't angry, but desperate for some reason. "There are familiars who aren't born from magic, Stiles, but were whole, but cursed and got pushed into this slavery."

Stiles frowned at the wolf, his grip tightening on the book.

“And there is a cure for those familiars.” Peter continued, his eyes flaring up blue, his features turning into something ugly as he was speaking. Stiles felt his body go cold, feeling the anger and desperation of Peter in his own body too. “A spell.”

"And you're trying to tell me you're such a poor unfortunate soul and that's why you want to look into this book so bad. To find that spell and break out of your slavery?" Stiles huffed. Peter snarled, but Stiles could feel that the order he gave him the other day to keep him at bay will hold him. At least it took a lot of effort to go against their master’s will. But there was still the option and Stiles will never forget that.

Stiles licked his lips, eying Peter. So there was a way to set Peter free. Like setting free a genie from a lamp, well, wasn’t that original.

“Let me look into the book, Stiles.” Peter hissed suddenly, stepping closer. Stiles swallowed again to wet his dry throat.

“You know what, Peter...” the boy started, holding the book tighter. It was such a small little act to let Peter have the book, but he could lie. Spellbooks were powerful weapons, no wonder all the libraries were protected and mages had to have a license. “If I could only see just a little part of who you really are, then there is a reason you’re like this. Someone made sure to make you this way and you know what? I’m starting to believe that you deserve to be like this."

Peter's eyes flared up, taking another step toward Stiles again and those were definitely fangs in his mouth. Stiles gasped, stumbling back and dropping the book, but the wolf didn't go for the book, no, he went for his master and pushed him down onto the floor. Stiles groaned in pain as his back collided with hard ground.

"You're just like any of my masters. One day I'll break this order you put on me and tear your throat out just like I did with most of my masters before. You're not special, Stiles." the wolf hissed, scratching the floor next to Stiles' head with his claws, giving the most terrifying sound the boy ever heard. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he thought Peter didn't even have to do anything, it will tear open his chest and go by itself. Stiles couldn't say anything, and Peter kept him pinned down on the floor, growling at him like a real wolf would at their prey.

"How do you even know this book has that spell you want anyway?!" Stiles asked, licking his dry lips nervously when he was sure that Peter was just scaring him. It was awful that it was working pretty well.

"It smells familiar." the wolf answered in a growl, his electric blue eyes flickering on the spellbook lying next to them. Stiles also knew that there were other reasons the wolf wanted that book and that was power. It may have a spell or something Peter could use to maybe gather enough power to go against his orders. Even if the book had no spell to help Peter, but it was definitely a way to gather more power.

“I- I still can’t let you look into it!” Stiles stuttered and he could feel Peter straining against his orders once again. The wolf didn't answer him for a long time, his body tensing. Just like a tiger would test the bars of its cage. For Stiles’ greatest surprise, Peter let him go and moved away from him, walking toward the window.

"Wha- wait, where the hell are you going now?!" Stiles gasped, scrambling on his feet to follow Peter.

"Your father will be home in a few minutes and as I remember one of my orders is that he definitely can't see me. Give me a break, Master." Peter answered, not even looking back as he opened the window.

Stiles opened his mouth to order the familiar to stay the fuck in the room, but Peter was already gone and his father opened the door in the next second.

"Hey kid, you're up early." the sheriff frowned at him, nursing a mug in his hand. "Everything's alright?" he asked and Stiles wished that people would stop asking him that these days. Because one day he will answer that no, he is not fine, he had summoned Peter and the wolf is giving him hell for it, but there is no one else in this goddamn town who would help him with his magical talent...

"Yeah, I just fell out of bed and couldn't get back to sleep." Stiles sighed, rubbing his face.

"Are you sure? You look tired." his father sighed, walking up to him. "You still have some time before school, maybe you should have a nap." he smiled a little, stroking his son's hair reassuringly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna do that." Stiles smiled a little, looking at the bed he had just promised to Peter. Maybe this would be the last time for a while that he could use it after all.

"Just don't oversleep." his father warned. "See you in the evening." he added and left. Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes, and decided to fall back into bed for those few minutes.

His dreams weren't peaceful. He was dreaming of Peter's fangs and his claws and how he was almost killing him just minutes before his father walked in. Stiles wasn't amused, he was completely done with all this. Especially now that Peter didn't show all day again.

\--

"I’m so done with this guy, dude, I'm done." Stiles ranted as he was driving Scott to the preserve. He decided not to worry more about Peter as it wasn't worth it. "That asshole does as he wants."

"Yeah, but he shouldn't. He should follow your orders, no?" Scott asked in a frown, looking at Stiles worried. His friend bit his lower lip in a nervous manner, looking at the road.

"Yes, yes he should but he's not like other familiars. Mostly, he's a wolf, so he's difficult to tame and I don't know, I think he thinks that he's special or something."

"Wow, talking about ego, dude." Scott sighed.

"I know, right? I thought I had enough of that from Jackson, but no, now there’s this douche sleeping in my bed--"

"He sleeps in your bed?" Scott asked frowning. And Stiles looked at him, and he had no idea why he was blushing.

"No! Well-- Yes, yes he- he uh, has the bed. Like, he's sleeping in the bed and I'll most probably sleep on the floor or on the couch." Stiles explained, waving his arm around.

"Dude, I haven't met this guy, but I already hate him. I mean, he's a pain in the ass." Scott sighed as they parked at the entrance of the preserve.

Stiles groaned in frustration as he got out of the car. He knew Peter was a pain in the ass, he was much more than that. He was dangerous, not that he would tell about that to anyone at this point. Because Stiles could handle it. Well, for the past two days, he could. Which totally meant that he could handle it. Yes.

“So, how’s this teaching thing with Derek going? You call him and he shares his holy teachings and end of the day?” Stiles asked, receiving a scolding glare from Scott. “What, I can’t ask?” the boy asked laughing. This will be the first time he was meeting with the other werewolf. His curfew still wasn’t entirely lifted, but his father will be home late so Stiles risked an afternoon to go with Scott and check how Derek is actually ‘teaching’ his best friend and if the guy wasn’t some pedophile.

“He really helps me, dude. He can teach me control.” Scott said in a quiet voice and Stiles knew why. He still remembered the last full moon when Scott was almost killing him in his blind wolf rage. It was a miracle Stiles had one of his father’s handcuffs to reduce the damage as much as he could. But full moons were still a problem with Scott and Stiles spent endless, sleepless nights in front of his computer, trying to hack into any kind of online database on werewolves. With little luck. And now there was a wolf, teaching Scott all the basics. Stiles felt like he let his friend down. Again.

“Good for you.” Stiles grumbled, feeling a certain warmth wash over him suddenly. He knew what it was. It meant that Peter was near again. It was strange feeling this reassured in the presence of Peter when he was so terrifying.

“Who’s that?” Scott asked just as Stiles turned to look at the familiar walking toward them. Peter appeared in a much better mood than when he had left that morning, “Don’t tell me that’s the…?”

“Yeah, he’s Peter.” Stiles sighed, rubbing his cheek. Then he moved to step in front of Peter. “Where the hell were you?” he asked and only half expected an answer. Peter smirked at him.

“Somewhere else.” the familiar said as he walked past his master toward Scott and Stiles felt his heart jump into his throat. “I doubt I have to introduce myself.” Peter started and his master rolled his eyes.

“Yeah no, you’re Peter, right?” Scott asked, frowning at the man. Peter just smirked, leaning closer and Stiles swore that he even smelled Scott.

“And you’re this embarrassment’s werewolf friend, Scott.” the wolf spoke and Stiles opened his mouth to tell him exactly who’s the fucking embarrassment here, but the familiar continued. “But he never told me you’re an Alpha. Now that’s interesting.”

Stiles froze hearing those words and meeting Peter’s gaze confirmed his fears. The wolf knew. Of course, why wouldn’t he know? It must be a damn common thing for the supernatural beings or even those with magical talent. That power never gets lost. That there is a reason that Scott is an Alpha.

Peter must still be angry at him and he would use Scott to get back at him? Stiles felt like throwing up.

“You got bitten, didn’t you?” Peter asked in a low voice and Stiles could see Scott wanting to take a step back. But he didn’t. He withstood the wolf’s gaze, his eyes flaring red. “And you’re an Alpha.” he smiled with too many teeth. “Did you know? There are only two ways for bitten wolves to become Alphas, especially without a pack.” he spoke in a low tone. Stiles felt a panic attack crawl up his throat.

Peter was _lying_. There was only one way for bitten wolves to rise to power of an Alpha and Stiles experienced it firsthand. These wolves had to kill an Alpha themselves to receive their powers and that was exactly what Scott did. And Stiles never forgave himself for it. If only he wouldn’t have dragged Scott out to look at how a real werewolf looks. It was all Stiles’ fault. And Peter must know that…

“Shut it.” Stiles ordered suddenly, almost jumping at how deep his voice sounded to his ears. It wasn’t shaking, even if his fingers were. His gaze was sharp on Peter as the familiar looked at him. And without a word he nodded and stepped back from Scott. Stiles licked his lips, trying not to show his smugness for being able to order his own familiar. Peter didn’t seem too happy about it at all either. “Sorry.” Stiles sighed, stepping to Scott, reaching for his arm, but his friend moved away.

“’S fine.” Scott muttered, eying Peter. “He’s a real jackass, isn’t he?” he huffed quietly and Stiles laughed a little, nodding. Though he jumped when he spotted a huge black wolf dash out of the woods, heading toward them. It was most probably Derek, but the way his eyes were flaring blue made Stiles uncomfortable. Probably because he faced a similar pair of eyes when Peter threatened him that morning… Werewolves’ eyes flared up that way too? But honestly, seeing a huge black wolf running toward them with those fangs would wake the survival instinct of anyone.

“Isn’t that…” Stiles started, but the wolf didn’t stop, but hurried past them. Before any of the boys could ask anything the wolf jumped at Peter. “Whoa, hey!” Stiles gasped taking a step toward them, just to be stumbled back as Peter snarled at the animal, baring his fangs at him. His hands grew claws and he moved to grab at the wolf currently holding his arm in an iron grip between his teeth. “Hey, hey stop it!” Stiles gasped, but even he could feel that his order didn’t reach Peter.

The wolf kept an iron grip on Peter’s arm while the other was trying to shake him off him.

“Derek! Derek, stop it!” Scott shouted at the wolves. At the order Derek let Peter go, however, the familiar still reached to strike him. And Derek didn’t let himself get hit, he jumped at Peter again, pushing him against the jeep.

“Okay, now stop it, both of you!” Stiles hurried to them, even if he knew that getting all up in two wolves’ business might not have been the best idea. Though, Derek moved back, leaving Peter collapsed against the car. “What the hell was that!?” Stiles asked. “You’re Derek!?”

“He’s dangerous!” Derek barked, but Stiles heard his voice inside his head. This wolf was definitely _not_ a werewolf.

“How do you kno- I mean-!” Stiles stuttered, looking at Scott completely confused. “What the fuck!?”

Derek licked his mouth, eying Peter before he turned to the two dumbfounded boys. His blue eyes were heavy on Stiles and while wolves had no human expressions the boy felt like this wolf was judging him.

“You’re- you’re not a werewolf are you!?” Stiles gasped, taking a step back and his arm shot out to push Scott back too. Even if right now Scott had better chances against a wild… something than Stiles. Derek growled then shook his fur before he started talking again.

“He killed my master Laura!” Derek hissed as he took on his human form once again and Stiles was somewhat thankful he was wearing clothes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see more wolfish nakedness around. And it proved, Derek wasn’t a werewolf.

Derek was a wolf familiar.

“He what?” Scott asked, looking at Peter, but for Stiles it wasn’t the most nagging question.

“But you slashed my throat and burned my body, I think we can say you got your little revenge…” Peter coughed a little, shifting back to more of a human too. “Either way, good to see you too, Derek.”

“You know each other?” Stiles asked, looking between the two.

“What are you doing here?!” Derek asked in a growl and Stiles felt the need to step in front of Peter to shield him in a way. Even if watching his ass getting kicked after how he was acting would really have been slightly amusing. But Stiles felt like he should be the one kicking Peter’s ass and no one else.

“I got summoned.” Peter answered dryly and Derek’s gaze flickered to Stiles. A frown of disbelief crossed his features.

“Yeah, by me, so…” Stiles started. “But who summoned you?” he asked Derek.

“Don’t mind that! Burn him, send him back to the Astral Plane, you can’t get nothing from him!” Derek said and Stiles swore that the wolf was almost barking.

“As if you can tell me what to do, dude!” Stiles frowned, having a bit of confidence in the fact that Derek wasn’t a werewolf, but a familiar. He didn’t want to pull the mage card, but he did. And watching Derek taking a step back was actually worth it. “Now answer me, who summoned you?!”

“Stiles, what the hell?” Scott started. “Derek is a werewolf! Not a pet!” Stiles almost rolled his eyes, but he didn’t.

“He’s a familiar, Scott. With a master who I still don’t know!” the boy started, glaring at Derek.

“He’s going to kill you and bleed your powers out for himself! He’s done that to many of his masters, he’s done that with my master!” Derek hissed.

“I had orders.” Peter started and Stiles shivered at the flash of blue in Derek’s eyes.

“You’re lying!” Derek growled.

“Okay, shut the hell up now!” Stiles started again, holding up his hands. “I get it, okay, you two have some unfinished business here!” he shouted.

“I’m just warning you!” Derek insisted. “I’m not going to stay a second more in his presence!” This time Scott stepped to them.

“Enough!  I-I think you two should go now.” Scott said to Stiles, but he was looking at Peter. And Stiles could see the newly woken suspicion and fear in the boy’s eyes and it was never a good thing when Scott was worried.

“But--“ Stiles frowned, motioning at his jeep.

“I’ll call Deaton to take me home when we’re done. It’s fine, dude. I don’t want to cause you more trouble.” Scott continued, shaking his head. “Sorry.” he added in a whisper and turned to Derek. “Let’s go, please.” he said and pulled at the wolf’s arm. Derek just glared at Peter a bit more, before turning to leave with Scott.

Stiles gaped after them until they disappeared into the woods, completely baffled that Scott would ditch him like this. Even if he didn’t ditch him, he had no other choice. Apparently, Derek and Peter weren’t exactly best friends and that was interfering with Scott’s little lessons. Stiles sighed, still looking into the woods as he pocketed his hands into his hoodie. He wondered if feeling this terrible was his punishment for dragging Scott into all this. And that actually made him feel a little better.

A grunt made Stiles turn to Peter again. The wolf was still sitting by the jeep, nursing his injured, bleeding arm. The boy blinked at the sight and for some reason, his stomach dropped as he felt worry crawl into his chest. He felt genuinely worried for Peter as he saw him bleed. So Stiles walked back to him, a little pale at the sight of blood.

He knew he should ask Peter many things. About how he can bleed out other mages’ powers. About how he could kill other mages… and why. And if he was planning to do that with Stiles too once he could break the order the boy put on him. But would Peter answer him?

“How come you’re not healing?” Stiles asked in a raspy voice, standing by Peter, deciding that all that could wait. The wolf just sent him an unimpressed glare.

“Derek’s also a familiar. The injuries he makes on me are more effective than any weapon in the Natural World.” Peter hissed a little out of breath. So he was powerful, but other familiars gave him a hard time. Even if he had killed a few, Stiles knew. Familiars, humans, Peter killed all and the boy saw it in his mind all before. He just sighed, eying the bitemark for a few seconds before he turned to get the first aid box from the car.

“Here, let me try something.” Stiles muttered as he knelt next to the wolf. Peter just raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question. “What? Am I missing some master familiar rule again?” the boy huffed and attempted to clean the wound as much as he could. The wolf was saying nothing, which was quite awkward for Stiles. He expected banter or a snarky remark, but Peter said nothing while he cleaned the bite. Then he pressed his palm against Peter’s skin and concentrated. And only then the wolf let out a soft laugh of disbelief.

“You’re attempting to heal me.” Peter snorted, leaning his head against the car.

“I could try? What’s the worst that can happen, that I kill you?” the boy muttered and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the healing spell. He actually had practice in it. Ever since his mother died, he had to heal his own injuries. Of course it wasn’t a necessity, but he felt like he didn’t want to bother his father with things like this. He learned how to use the spell from a young age as he was a really active kid and his mother always treated his smaller injuries with this spell. “I never healed anyone before. Not even Scott.” he muttered suddenly, not daring to look up into Peter’s mocking gaze. “I was afraid they would be scared of me and never talk to me again.” he confessed and he wasn’t sure why. He never told this to anyone.

After a few seconds, Stiles could feel the familiar flow of energy in his hand. The air around them buzzed as the magic started working and the boy felt himself smiling. He had never helped anyone like this so he wasn’t sure he could, but apparently, his spell could work on others too. Stiles was watching as Peter’s skin slowly closed up and all the damage Derek’s fangs had made was healing thanks to his magic. Even Peter let out an impressed hum.

It wasn’t anything flashy, there were no words to chant, but it took a lot of effort and energy and Stiles felt a little out of breath when he was done. But he didn’t let go of Peter as he ran his fingers over the now newly healed skin, feeling the warmth of Peter and his heart skipped a beat.

“I never told you why I summoned you, did I?” Stiles felt himself speak as he looked up into Peter’s eyes, just to find something new there. The wolf wasn’t looking at him with that sharp coldness, but with something that made Stiles’ chest ache.

“For knowledge and power.” Peter said quietly and Stiles felt like that voice was rumbling inside his mind and soul.

“Yes, but…” he started, closing his eyes for a second. “That why I want all that?” he sighed, his thumb stroking Peter’s arm. The wolf didn’t say anything, he was waiting for Stiles to continue. “I was the one who made Scott like this. It was my fault.”

Scott always told Stiles that it wasn’t his fault, he heard it from his father, he heard it from Deaton too. Everyone told him it wasn’t his fault and yet he couldn’t believe them, because it was. Because if he had listened to his father and let the special unit deal with the feral werewolf in their woods, if he wasn’t stupid enough to drag Scott out to the preserve, they wouldn’t have to do this.

“I wanted to know what a werewolf looks like. I thought it will be fun.” Stiles continued quietly. “But he could smell us, or I don’t know, but the next thing I know is we’re running for our lives and Scott tripped and it caught up to him and bit him and…” he felt his throat tighten again and he looked up over the preserve as if he could see Scott and Derek there. “And then…” he tried to continue, but he couldn’t.

“Shhh.” Peter hushed him gently then and Stiles felt the wolf in his head again. And he let him see, what happened. He showed Peter how the wolf was going for him with his red eyes and yellow fangs, completely berserk. And how Scott was the one saving him. Scott, with that awful bite on his side could still find the strength to grab the hunting knife he took from his father’s leftover tool bag and go against a monster thrice his size. Stiles closed his eyes tightly as the memory was playing in his mind and as Peter was looking at it so thoroughly, as if he wanted to take it and make it his.

“I don’t want him to have to be like that again.” Stiles whispered quietly, not daring to open his eyes, because he didn’t want to cry. He closed it in himself, he knew he was doing the right thing. Then why does it still hurt? “I want to protect him. And you need to help me.” he sniffed, looking up at Peter again. “Help me.” he repeated in a whisper.

Peter was eying him again, but his expression was soft. It was the same expression when Stiles called for him the very first time. And he helped him back then. Without any questions, without any fight; Peter went and helped him and Stiles knew he will do it again. But it wasn’t just wings this time, the boy was asking for something far more of the familiar.

“Fine.” the wolf nodded finally. “I’ll help you to be powerful, Master.”

“You called me master again.” Stiles remarked quietly. The familiar chuckled with a nod.

“A master should take care of his familiar.” he spoke. “You just healed me.” he added, running a hand over his arm, just to bump into Stiles’ fingers which were still holding him. “No one ever healed me before.” Peter added quietly, pulling his hand away. Stiles looked at him without a word and for the first time since the wolf got summoned he saw Peter being slightly embarrassed. “Everyone knew better.” the familiar added quietly.

"You really killed Derek's master?" Stiles asked in a low voice.

"Yes." Peter answered.

"It was an order?" the boy asked. Peter didn't answer, but Stiles already knew the answer. "Why?"

"For power. She was a powerful witch." the wolf smirked tiredly.

Stiles sighed, looking down at the freshly healed skin of Peter and thinking that they may not be all that different...

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy.
> 
> Warning for small, dark, closed off places!!!

  

It was strange, Peter wondered in the dark. He was sitting on the bed he’d demanded from Stiles, listening to his master’s breathing coming from next to the bed. Stiles got himself a sleeping bag to sleep on the floor as he should after being a brat to Peter. The wolf sighed softly, carrying his gaze around the room, but it was still strange. This room wasn’t the right one. He had no idea why he felt that, but he had a nagging voice at the back of his head that this wasn’t right. It was alien. Now, it wasn’t because this was Peter’s first summoning in a while, and it wasn’t because he was used to the Astral Plane. He had never felt like this before, so he couldn’t exactly know how to make it go away. As he was sitting in the dark, wondering if he was losing his mind, his hand brushed against his forearm which Stiles had healed the other day. It wasn’t a big deal, the bite would have healed in a day or two. But Stiles still chose to heal him and not because of bragging. Stiles felt genuinely concerned for him and he wanted Peter to listen.

The familiar sighed again. No one healed him before, because they knew he will heal and he was better of weak so he couldn’t hurt anyone. Also no one wanted him to listen, they just wanted his powers, his services and his knowledge; they only gave him orders.

And then here comes this stupid little brat, his newest master who thinks he can have his way. Peter chuckled, looking through the window at the night sky and wondering why the sky was blue when it should be bronze at this time of the night... No, that was somewhere else. It wasn’t the Prime Material Plane’s sky. It was a different sky, Peter remembered. A whole different plane’s sky. He frowned, looking at the stars that were also all in the wrong places. Because why would he remember a completely different sky he had never seen before?

The thought disturbed him so much he couldn’t go back to sleep. He got out of the bed and took his clothes, deciding he should also go out for a little trip. His trips to the outside world were mostly to get to know it and catch up with the last hundred years. It took a long time and he didn’t plan to come back to Stiles so quick. But the more he spent time away from him, the colder his limbs got. Which was unheard of. Peter was in his peak, he possessed all his powers and he had a human body, so the fact that just by being away from his master could make him weak was pretty annoying. It never happened before, there was a time when he spent months, almost a whole year away from his master and he was fine. And now, just taking a few hours away from Stiles, he felt his powers slipping.

Peter thought that maybe the way Stiles summoned him was not quite perfect and that resulted in such an annoying side-effect. He was a powerful familiar after all and Stiles was just starting to realize his full magical potential. There could have been mistakes. Peter just wished they would be less annoying. But nevertheless he moved to go, he couldn’t just sit around and think about the sky and his master.

\--

The more time they spent together, the more Stiles got used to the fact that Peter would leave for a day and only come back when he felt like it. Sometimes he was out during the night and then Stiles could sleep in his bed, but usually he got kicked out some time in the early hours when Peter arrived back. But Peter was helpful, he answered his questions and helped Stiles interpret spells from the book. Though Stiles still didn’t let him look into it. Because while Peter was indeed helping him, he could have lied. There was a reason he wanted to look at the book and it wasn’t because ‘it smelled familiar’. What kind of half-ass reason was that? Stiles started to realize that he still had to check out a few books in the town’s library in the magical section. But he needed a license for that and he was most probably not going to get one soon.

One night, in his utter frustration he decided to check out if anyone had a license in Beacon Hills. Apparently the police had a record of all the people with licenses for magic in case anything happens. Stiles heard it all from his father: there is a special unit just to investigate crimes that were connected to magic. Because of course there were many, even in this age. Magic was difficult to investigate for many reasons, mostly because it was difficult to find experts on it. So it was just pre-caution to keep a list of people who had access to the libraries. Because if you had the books and could read them, you were halfway there.

Scanning through the list, Stiles snorted when he found out that of course Deaton had a license, he should have known. Ms. Blake also did, which wasn’t a surprise, taken that Stiles could see her cloaking spell. Though he never had the courage to ask her about it. It felt a bit too private. But the boy’s biggest surprise was that one of his schoolmates also had a license. Namely Lydia Martin. As if Lydia needed more reasons to appear more awesome in Stiles’ eyes. Stiles also noticed that she received her license not long after Allison’s death… Stiles wondered if there was a connection.

And apparently, maybe he was thinking too much about Lydia’s damn license, because in the break after History she walked up to him at his locker.

"So what on Earth is your problem?" Lydia sighed, looking at Stiles with a slight bit of impatience.

"Wow, I- I'm not even sure how to answer that question, I mean- I do think the climate change is all of our problem..." Stiles started his sudden rambling, but shut up immediately at Lydia’s annoyed sigh.

"I could hear you call my name over and over again. I told you to keep it down." she sighed, rubbing her temple. "So what do you want?"

Stiles suddenly felt pretty violated. Like, what could Lydia hear until now? And was it cool? Probably embarrassing as hell and Stiles should be glad that she's still talking to him out of her own free will.

"Okay, listen... I just, I just wanted to ask if... About your license." Stiles started, wincing a little. Lydia parted her rosy lips to probably ask something, but she seemed to think again about it.

"You don't have one?" she asked then, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a long story, so no, I don't." Stiles sighed, licking his lips. He didn’t have the courage to ask his father about it just yet. "So, you- uh, you have one, right?"

"I do. Why?" Lydia asked quietly, eying Stiles with a newly awakened suspicion.

"I was just wondering...” Stiles swallowed, shrugging. The girl just eyed him more as if she would want to say something. But he wasn’t sure. She bit her lower lip so cutely Stiles felt himself blush and distracted for a second. And then Lydia started to talk quietly.

 “I want to help Allison.” she said and Stiles froze. He was squinting his eyes at Lydia, waiting for the punchline. But there was none. Lydia just kept watching him with those sparkling green eyes and Stiles felt his throat go dry for some reason.

“What do you mean help her, you can’t exactly make her undead, now can you?” Stiles asked, spreading his arms and immediately regretted saying that as he saw the momentary flinch in Lydia’s expression. So he opened his mouth to say sorry, but Lydia was faster.

“That’s not what I meant, you idiot.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a second. “I want her to move to the light. And books that can help me with it are in the library for the magically talented. Now, you got your answer. So stop shouting my name to ask invasive questions.” She added and stormed away, leaving her Dior scented impression behind. Stiles sighed, leaning against the locker, looking after her. He really felt like a stupid idiot.

\--

“So, let me get this straight...” came Peter’s voice suddenly and Stiles jumped. He forgot the familiar was in the room too, he was damn quiet while Stiles was trying to raid the net about ghosts and all that. “There’s a soul of a dead girl still stuck on this Plane, and your girlfriend wants her to what did she say?” Peter asked, his tone too amused for Stiles’ taste. They were talking about someone who was long dead after all.

“Lydia wants to help Allison move on. To the light.” Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes. As he said it out loud it sounded terrible to his ears.

“She’s the banshee?” Peter asked back and Stiles nodded. The familiar chuckled softly, leaning his back against the bed’s headrest. “Of course she’d call it the light then.”

“What do you mean?” his master asked back, though he wasn’t really listening. He was wondering how someone would escort spirits through to the afterlife.

‘ _There’s no afterlife, Master._ ’ Peter started then, speaking to Stiles’ mind directly. Indicating that he was listening to his thoughts once again. The boy closed his eyes and turned to Peter.

“Don’t come with your messed up ideas about your religion right now.” Stiles started, frowning.

“It’s not about religion, Master. It’s about how souls work.” Peter said, eying the boy. “The afterlife is just another life on a different Plane. It also ends. Just so the soul would go on to the next life.”

“Reincarnation? So it’s real?” Stiles frowned, because damn, look at all those beliefs going down the drain. Peter just smirked at him, shaking his head.

“Not in the way you think.” the wolf started. “Souls are forever, yet they always change. You aren’t ‘reborn’ perse, but your soul manifests according to where it ended up after it left your material body.”

Stiles frowned at Peter. So apparently, Lydia was maybe only half aware of this soul-business.

“What about Allison then? Does this mean that she’s alive somewhere else?” the boy asked, moving closer to Peter and sat down on the bed. The wolf shook his head.

“Not exactly. She’s still here, isn’t she?” the familiar asked and Stiles nodded. “It means our little girl doesn’t want to go. She must think there’s still something in this poor life she wants to do so bad that she just can’t move on.” Peter spoke softly and it actually filled Stiles with a kind of sorrow. He bit his lower lip, thinking about it.

“But if it’s all up to Allison, then why would Lydia want to help her?” he asked, mostly to himself. He couldn’t see it. Apparently, Lydia was aware that Allison was stuck here, probably out of her own will, but then what could be done to help her?

“Oh Master.” Peter’s voice snapped Stiles back to reality from his thoughts. “Don’t you get it?” he asked, leaning forward. His smile was sharp in the light of Stiles’ desk lamp. But the boy somewhat realized that his face was familiar to him. He started noticing it for a while now. “This is the Prime Material Plane, the natural world. You can’t do much without an actual physical body.”

Peter’s words were simple, but Stiles still had to think about what he could mean.

“You mean...”

“Yes.” Peter smiled. “With a body between this world and your soul you can enjoy it to the fullest. You can taste, you can see, you can touch.” he spoke in a soft voice and Stiles felt himself a little bothered. The way Peter’s eyes lit up, the way a smile was playing on his lips made him kind of attractive. Not that he wasn’t, but filled with such passion, Stiles caught himself staring. “The soul is a complicated substance, Master, and it also needs to be fed. Like you need your mouth to take food, the soul needs the body to take what it needs.” Peter continued.

“And what does a soul need?” Stiles heard himself asking quietly.

“It depends.” The familiar answered, looking away from his master. “You have to ask her that.”

Stiles sighed, eying Peter’s profile. So this helping Allison to the afterlife wasn’t that simple. Mostly because she would require a body for that. And of course that was when Stiles would come into the picture. Who else could give a body to a ghost than a mage?

“You told me before, that your soul was cursed. And that’s why you’re like this.” Stiles started suddenly.

“And you told me I deserve it.” Peter nodded, raising an eyebrow. His master just sighed, still eying him. He said those words on a whim, out of rage and anger. Though Peter maybe really deserved it. But who was Stiles to decide that?

“Does that mean your soul can never be reborn?” the boy asked quietly.

“It means that my soul isn’t whole.” Peter answered, which surprised Stiles. He was sure that the familiar would avoid talking about his own soul. It felt a bit indiscreet to ask someone about their soul, especially after Stiles knew how important they are. “It means that I need my masters to be able to live. My soul is connected to my Master’s and it fills in the ripped pieces that my curse took from me.” As he was speaking, his voice grew low and Stiles could see that flash of blue in his eyes that showed that no matter how old Peter was, he was still bitter about it.

“Who cursed you?” Stiles asked and that moment there was a laugh.

Both the master and familiar went still, because neither of them was laughing. The sound was echoing all around them all too cheerful. It was similar to one in some bad horror movie, except it was a bit more frightening being the protagonist of it. Stiles swallowed and stood from the bed, trying to find the source of the laughter. Peter moved with him, seemingly searching for the same thing.

“Who’s there?!” Stiles asked in a shaking voice, just to have another fit of laughter thrown at them. Well, so far for getting any kind of answers. But it was good that Peter seemed to hear the voice too.

“It’s a fox.” Peter muttered quietly, moving besides Stiles. The boy tried not to think about how reassuring that felt.

“A fox?! Is that all you can come up with?!” Stiles asked flailing a little, because that was surely creepy. He heard a young boy laugh and yet Peter said it was a fox. "How do you know?"

"Yes, how do you know?" asked the laughing voice and both of them froze. There was someone standing by the window and Stiles caught himself feeling extremely scared of looking up. Instead he turned his gaze to Peter, who had more courage and eyed the stranger. And his expression didn't show much good. "What is it? Don't you want to look, Stiles?" the boy asked and Stiles felt his throat tighten.

"You should, Master." Peter warned and Stiles tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Stiles frowned at the familiar, but in the end he took courage and raised his eyes at their intruder. And he wished he hadn’t. Stiles could see he was a fox, but his human features were scaring him the most. The fox looked _exactly_ like him. Well, almost like him. He was thinner, his skin was a paler color and those huge dark circles under his eyes added to his whole villain aura. Stiles felt himself getting hit by a dizzy spell and only realized he was stumbling when he felt Peter's hand on his back to steady him.

"Who would have thought we would meet like this?" the fox muttered, eying them. "You, I had so much faith in you." he sighed, looking at Peter. "You weren't supposed to accept his orders. You were supposed to go on and crush him. Bleed him out of his powers, making them yours and break free of your curse, of your shackles."

Peter growled deep in his throat and Stiles actually got scared. These two knew each other? And of course he kind of had an idea about Peter's plan, but hearing them like this made them so real. Stiles pushed himself away from Peter, which was accompanied by another fit of laughter from the fox. But the fox wasn't laughing, it was all in Stiles' head.

"Now, how could I go on with my marvelous plan now that you ruined it?" Peter asked then, tilting his head to the side.

"Who the hell are you?" Stiles demanded suddenly, stomping and fisting his hands. His fear gave him an unusually amount of nerve, because he wasn't going to just stand there while these two decide who will tear him to pieces.

"I'm a fox." the boy looking creature chuckled and pushed himself away from the window. Both Stiles and Peter tensed up. "Whoa, easy there, I'm not going to hurt you." the fox said, holding up his hands. "I have orders." he smiled, looking at Stiles. "You really should have listened to your father and stopped with this magical nonsense." he sighed. "Look what you're making me do."

"I'm not getting anything you say, asshole!" Stiles hissed, taking a step back. The dark fox just sighed, shaking his head slowly at him.

"You know what? It doesn't really matter what I say, Master."

As the words left that sly mouth, both Peter and Stiles went still. The boy opened his mouth to ask something, anything. Because it was getting way more tangled and messed up, because he would remember if he’d summoned anyone other than Peter. Especially when it looked like him and had the strangest, darkest aura. Peter looked just as clueless which was a relief, but also alarming, because it meant that the familiar couldn’t exactly help Stiles either.

But before either of them could gawk out their words, Stiles felt his dizziness overwhelm him. The room turned round and suddenly the lights went out. Great, so he just went full princess on the situation and just blacked out? Wonderful, he thought to himself before he completely lost consciousness.

\--

When Stiles woke up, he was in bed. But it wasn’t him. It was once again like a dream. A dream that resembled more a memory, something he already experienced. He felt himself get out of bed and walk through the room, which wasn’t his room back in Beacon Hills, but he knew it was his. It was huge, with stone walls and the highest ceiling, resembling more a chamber of a palace than any kind of room, and Stiles realized he was in a palace indeed. However, he didn’t stop to admire the only half lit room, he was stepping to one of the tall, golden windows and looked out. The scene would have made him gasp, because it was something he had never seen before, but somehow it didn’t feel new. Stiles was only looking.

He saw the palace grounds, with soldiers swarming around in their black and red uniforms. They were carrying swords and shields and Stiles could also spot a few mages. He knew it was an assemble for a war that was ongoing. But for how long? And which side was he on?

Watching the palace prepare for a battle made Stiles’ heart heavy in his chest, even if he couldn’t remember the cause, or where he was right now. He knew he was suffering for a long time and he had no idea why. It was all confusing, because he was trying to remember what was happening. He looked further than the palace, seeing the once green and brilliant scenery being burned and blackened by the fire of war and his chest tightened. He felt responsible and helpless.

There was a war going on and he let it happen.

Stiles wanted to lick his lips in his nervous fidgeting, but his body just sighed heavily and turned from the window. His gaze sought the bed in the half lit room, only to find someone else there. Stiles immediately realized that that someone there was someone really precious to him, but he was also the one who scorched up the land. He was the one bringing the soldiers to this palace. He was the one fighting this war. And now he was sleeping in Stiles’ bed and the boy knew he loved that man. He couldn’t recall how he looked, or how he felt under his touch, but he knew that his heart was swelling for him in the most painful way and he still couldn’t let him go.

With a few steps Stiles moved back to the bed and sat down, watching the other man, feeling utter sadness wash over him once more. Though as he was watching the features of the sleeping man, Stiles saw someone familiar. His face was just a tad bit different, but that man in his bed; the man who was fighting the war; the man Stiles loved; was Peter.

\--

A jolt woke Stiles from his sleep. Because he must have been asleep, right? The nightmare with the fox and the war must have both been a dream. It wasn't real and he must have just woken up in his room. Which was suddenly a little stuffy. Maybe he should open the window a little. With that thought, Stiles forced his eyes to open and met with only darkness. Which was still fine, it was in the middle of the night, wasn't it? Then Stiles tried to move, but as he tried to move his limbs, he realized he had only a little space to move. He grunted and tried to get himself untangled from the sleeping bag he was forced to sleep in ever since Peter took his bed. Then his head bumped into something hard, and it hurt.

"What..." Stiles hissed and tried to move his hand to rub at the sore spot on his head, but he couldn't. There was no space. "What..." he groaned once again and tried to really take in where he was. It felt like he was stuffed into a small box with something heavy weighing him down. He tried to move his arms and feel around. He found something... someone laying on him, and the sides of a box.

It was a box. Stiles was enclosed in a box.

The thought so scarily hit the boy that it earned a yell from him and he desperately tried to open the box in any way possible. He scrambled around, tried to move his crammed legs and arms.

"Stop it!" he heard someone hiss right next to his ear and it did nothing to calm Stiles down. The shock sharpened his eyesight, and he could see a little in the complete darkness. There were walls everywhere. Wooden walls, which gave a thick sound as he kicked them, like they were covered in concrete from the outside. He could also spot the someone else who was there with him, lying on him, weighing him down. "Stiles, stop it!"

Judging by the voice, it was Peter.

Peter was crammed together with him in that box and Stiles gave another yell. He tried to scratch at the ceiling of the box with that little space he had, just to let his wrists be taken by Peter’s strong grip.

"It's useless, Stiles, stop it! Calm down!" Peter hissed and raised his electric blue eyes at the mage which were now the only source of light in the darkness. It just made it way more terrifying and Stiles felt panic claw at his insides.

"What happened, why are we here, what happened?!" the boy asked at the edge of hysteria as he was trying to free his wrist from Peter's grip.

"What does it look like? We're buried alive." The familiar answered not too happy about the situation either.

“No! No, no, no, no, get me out of here, open this thing, do something!” Stiles squirmed, feeling like all his air was escaping him and it was most probably true. This box was closed shut and there were two people breathing in the air already. They were going to suffocate soon if they won’t get out.

“I can’t.” came Peter’s answer and Stiles took in a sharp breath.

“Why, why not?!” he asked, his voice high and shaking from fear and panic as he tried to free his hands from the wolf once again.

“This is a box made from a rowan tree.” Peter started with a heavy voice. “It drains my powers, I can’t do anything. Our little fox was prepared.”

As Peter spoke, Stiles slowly understood the meaning of his words. They were trapped. Peter couldn’t break the lid and get them out of here. He felt his lungs shrink and get rid of even that little air he could gulp down. Stiles felt like he was suffocating and shook from panic.

“No...” he gasped, sniffing. Tears filled his eyes, making the two blue irises of Peter blurry. Stiles squirmed, trying to still do something. “Let me go, let me go I need to get out, we need to get out!” he shouted and trashed around as much as he could. He heard Peter groan as he kicked him with his knees and the familiar snarled.

“Stiles, we’re trapped in a coffin buried god knows where!” Peter hissed, shaking the boy’s wrists. “Get yourself together!”

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Stiles shouted, kicking at the box and trying to push Peter away. He was screaming and yelling for help, even if he knew they were buried somewhere who knows where and no one could hear them. Or even know that they were here.

“You’re being an utter idiot, now calm the hell down!” the wolf shouted over Stiles’ continuous screaming.

“You’re talkin’ easy, you just die and go wherever familiars go, but if I die-- if I die-- my father will be left alone, I won’t be able to help Scott and Lydia and Allison. Oh my god I’m gonna be like Allison, I’m gonna be trapped here watching my father drink more and—“ Stiles’ panicked rant was interrupted as Peter pressed his palm against his mouth. The boy tried to shout, but only a sob bubbled up his throat. His tears rolled down his cheeks and his words got jumbled against Peter’s palm.

‘ _Stiles._ ’ he heard Peter’s voice suddenly in his mind. Stiles whimpered, shaking his head. The familiar just sighed and slid his hand off Stiles’ mouth down to his neck to cup his nape. The boy felt a shiver run through him, which was not caused by panic, but something entirely else. ‘ _Stiles, just listen to me._ ’

Peter’s voice was echoing in his head and for some strange reason it really did calm Stiles a little. Though he couldn’t stop his crying, not yet. He closed his eyes, wishing all this would just go away. That all the fear and anxiety he felt would just leave and everything could be fine again.

' _I don't want this._ ' Stiles sobbed, feeling Peter’s fingers tighten on his nape. ' _I just wanted to... I just wanted my father to see..._ '

' _And he will see, Stiles. You will accomplish so many things._ ' Peter retorted and Stiles let out another fit of sobs.

"How when I'm trapped in a fucking box with a useless wolf?!" he shouted, trashing around once again. Peter growled, cupping his cheeks with both of his hands.

"Look at me." the familiar demanded. Stiles whimpered and opened his eyes to look at Peter. Though his vision was still blurry from tears.

"You're strong. Your magic is so strong even a banshee could hear it. Stiles, you could summon a wolf familiar twice. You could summon the wings of an angel..." Peter spoke, his voice strained by how little air they had left. "And you can get us out of here."

"How?!" Stiles whimpered, grabbing onto Peter's shoulders as he felt like he was dying once again.

"You can let your voice be heard. If you concentrate enough, you can talk to them as we can. Through their mind, to their soul." the familiar said and Stiles sniffed. It didn't seem too stupid of an idea, but he wasn't sure he could do that. He was still beginning to experience his own magic and when Peter spoke to his mind it was so loud it hurt... And thinking that he could do this to others?

"I can... I can call them?" Stiles hicked, feeling Peter's thumbs swipe against his cheeks, smudging the tears.

"Think of someone you're close with. The closest... It could be either your father, or the werewolf, hell, maybe the banshee too. Just think of them, try to call them." Peter said in a hushed voice. Stiles felt his body tremble, because they may not end up like this, buried alive and forgotten. "Stiles, you have to try hard. Concentrate." the wolf spoke and Stiles gave a weak noise at the back of his throat. He was so afraid and he was dizzy, he couldn't breathe properly.

Stiles closed his eyes to try and do as Peter told him. To try to call those who were close to him. The first person that came to his mind was Peter and that threw him off. It must be because of the bond they shared, the master and familiar bond.

"What if... What if we're buried hundreds of miles away from them?" Stiles asked suddenly. Because in case they were in a whole other city, or state or even country it wouldn't do anything if his friends and family could hear him cry for help in his last minutes.

Peter didn't answer for a long time and that worried Stiles. The boy's breathing picked up and his hands were trying to search for Peter's face.

"Peter?" He asked in a shaking voice, cupping Peter's cheeks. The wolf didn't answer and Stiles cursed out loudly and cradled the man's head to his chest. Peter was barely breathing. They must have only minutes left. Stiles felt his head grow light, his chest hurting from various reasons. It felt like this time he was really done, together with this sorry excuse of a familiar. Stiles whimpered, holding Peter tighter to him, because he still found a bit of comfort in the warm presence of the wolf in his last minutes. He was trying to think about his father and Scott. That because of his stupidity again his life was in danger and now Peter couldn’t help him at all. Peter was also dying.

Stiles whimpered, grabbing tighter at Peter as if holding him would make it all better, save them or make the box open. So Stiles just closed his eyes and tried to shout, though not from his throat, but with all his powers he felt in his body. He felt his limbs warm up and the air in the box probably was rapidly disappearing as he was trying to take more and more gulps of it. He was calling for his father, he was calling for Scott, hell... Stiles was even calling for Lydia. And Peter. He wanted all of them to know they all mattered and that he was sorry that he had put them through all this because of his selfish reasons. He wanted to apologize to Scott for not being there for him when he becomes the Alpha of Beacon Hills, like all those wolves he could read about in glimpses from forbidden books. Stiles also wanted to apologize to his father for letting him down and leaving him alone after his wife left them.

His consciousness left Stiles for seconds, maybe minutes. He wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. All he knew was that Peter was going cold in his arms and that he was afraid less and less. He always heard that in the very last moment before someone’s death they weren’t afraid anymore. They are not in pain and they don’t have regrets. He wished it would be all true. Because he still had regrets, still thought that there were things he should have done better.

With a sigh, Stiles looked up at the ceiling of the box, shouting, screaming in his mind, yet his body was still and no voice left his throat. Then finally, the one last dizzy spell hit him and everything became darker than before.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy~
> 
> \--
> 
> Sorry, short chapter.

 

A familiar wasn’t a whole existence. They depended on their Masters in mind and body, even in their souls. Not even their names were theirs. However, Peter was different. He was a wolf with free will and with the ability to break his Master’s commands. He could bite through their throats, but he could never break the curse that was put on him. He knew that he wasn’t born as a familiar, but someone made him one. He was someone once.

But even for familiars born from curses it was rare to remember their lives before the curse. To remember the life they had lived. Because that was the catch. They were cursed to be taught a lesson, to show them how terrible they were during their lives and that they didn’t deserve to have another one. But they never remembered why they were cursed. There was no chance to redeem themselves.

Peter always thought it was also typical mage behavior. Creating something powerful and caging it, throwing away the key of their shackles and telling them it was all their fault. He knew there were other familiars similar to him, but he never met them. Only on rare occasions he could look into one of the history or spell books to read about them; about others with names and powers and the talent to go against their Masters. But there was no sign that any of them could remember their lives before they were banned to the Astral Plane and became familiars.

And yet, as Peter was slowly sitting up in the bed with light rose sheets and long white curtains around, he just knew. It was a memory of the life before everything, of his last life with a whole soul. Of the life that caused him to fall so low that now all mages would summon him to order him around.

He looked around, feeling thick nostalgia hit him and his lips pulled into a small smile. In this life he was a winner. He was a victor, a king maybe, and he had the whole world at his feet. The room was lit by a morning light, reflecting from the huge stone walls. As the man was looking around, he couldn’t feel more satisfied. Then he heard someone talk to him, though he didn’t understand the language. But Peter knew they called his name and they were talking to him and his heart skipped a beat.

He had never felt it before, but Peter just knew that he was in love. In this life, he had a lover. And he was talking to him. Peter felt himself talk back and finally raised his eyes to see someone stand by the window, his back turned to him. Before he could think more about it, Peter got out of the bed and walked up behind him, slid his arms around his waist and pulled him to his naked body. He kissed into his neck, calling his name. That was the only thing Peter understood.

It was a name Peter knew, but he couldn’t say out loud. He knew his name, yet he didn’t remember it. Then his lover slowly turned in his arms to look at him with those huge, golden brown colored eyes and Peter realized he knew him. But not only from this life.

His lover from these memories was no other than his master, Stiles.

\--

As Peter regained his consciousness, he didn’t know where he was for a second. It was dark and there were continuous banging noises coming from above his head.

Then he remembered he was still in the coffin with his Master, where the fox put them. The wolf growled a little and looked around, seeing small breaks on the rowan wood. The barrier was broken, someone was digging them out. But how long had they been down there? The fact that Peter was still alive on this Plane meant that Stiles was still alive, but for how long? The familiar wriggled around to look at Stiles’ face in the very dim light the cracks let in, just to see it being pale and blue around his mouth. He wasn’t breathing.

Peter cursed and gathered enough air into his lungs to perform his spell without thinking. He cupped the back of Stiles’ head and leaned in to press his lips against the boy’s cold ones. He closed his eyes and kicked his magic into action. Stiles’ lungs were filled with air and Peter prayed to any kind of deity of this world, if there was any, that his Master would be alright. But as Peter felt warmth against his fingertips from where he was holding Stiles’ neck, he knew he was doing well. Stiles slowly came around and his lips parted in a weak gasp against Peter’s. His hands were seeking him, grabbing weakly at his shirt even before he could open his eyes.

And then a shovel broke the lid of the coffin, letting light hit Stiles’ face and Peter felt his heart skip a beat. It was mostly out of worry, but there was also something else to it. Peter knew that his dream must affect him now, but as he was staring into his master’s weak features and half lidded brown eyes, he leaned in again.

This time he pressed his lips against Stiles’ without casting any spell.

More parts of the lid broke and more light hit them as they were digging them out and Peter could finally tell where they were: still in Beacon Hills, near the preserve, buried under the tree the locals tore down because of its magical energies. There was no need for a tree with magic when it was feared. These stumps were also a great way to shield magical talent and Peter had to admit that the fox had done its homework.

“Stiles?!” someone called from above them and Peter looked up, seeing Scott, Derek and Stiles’ father stand around the hole.

‘ _Peter..._ ’ Stiles’ voice rang in his mind as he called the familiar and Peter turned his head back to him. The boy seemed to be losing consciousness again... and Peter took it as a cue to leave too.

“No, no wait...” Stiles whimpered when he felt Peter’s weight shift from him and the next moment the wolf was nowhere. But it wasn’t an order, Stiles could feel it even in his hazy state, it was just something he wanted and Peter didn’t listen. He never listened, did he? The boy whimpered again and closed his eyes to shield it from the light that was breaking into the coffin. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his body started to shake.

“Stiles, can you hear me?” he heard someone shout at him. Stiles felt his body get yanked out of the box and pulled out of a deep hole. They have found them. They’ve found them...

Stiles licked his lips, still tasting Peter there and sudden fear gripped him. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew it had something to do with the wolf. Then his father’s face appeared in his blurry vision, with too wide eyes and pale skin, and Stiles hated to see him like this. His father looked exactly the same as when he told Stiles his mother had died. And Stiles wanted to apologize once again.

But he couldn’t talk, his body didn’t want to cooperate with him on that. He could only try and raise his arms to hug back his father and finally let go of a sob which had been gripping his chest.

It was all a blur. There was Stiles’ father, Scott and Derek, even Lydia was waiting in the sheriff’s car. She was the one who heard Stiles’ screams, apparently. And she didn’t look good. She looked like she cried just as much as Stiles while he was in that box. And only years later Lydia would confess that yes, she was crying the moment she could hear Stiles’ voice screaming from the shadow of death. Stiles knew it way before then and he always felt guilty that he caused such pain to Lydia, to someone he loved once.

His father refused to bring him to the police station, but they went home. Scott and Lydia insisted in coming and Derek tagged along too. Stiles knew that all of them were curious about different things and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell them what happened when he wasn’t sure about it himself either.

“Who was it?” was his father’s the first question as he sat down in front of Stiles on the coffee table.

“Uh...” Stiles swallowed, looking around their living room at the others. He was bundled up in blankets, holding a cup of tea spiced with a bit of whiskey. Just to get him through any kind of shock, but somehow he didn’t feel like it was strong enough when he was in the center of attention like this. Lydia sat next to him, with Scott standing near. Derek chose to stand a bit further away like some damn stalker and Stiles wondered why he was there in the first place. “I...” Stiles started and looked down into his tea. He had no idea how to say it or what to tell them. He was also aware that his father didn’t have any idea that he’d summoned Peter for the second time, so he should venture into it carefully...

“Was it Peter?” Derek asked suddenly and Stiles gripped his cup tighter to try and not throw it against the wolf’s head. He also hated how Scott was gasping. So both of those wolves were aware of Peter’s ‘kind’ nature. Brilliant.

“It wasn’t him...” Stiles muttered and moved his hand to get a huge gulp from his cup. His father was looking around a little clueless and Stiles wasn’t too keen on helping him this time.

“Who’s Peter?” the sheriff asked finally, looking at Derek. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask Derek of all people about Peter, but before he could talk, the wolf spoke.

“He’s a ruthless, cursed familiar who’s been accompanying your son for a while now.” Derek said. “He’s famous for killing his masters, though he usually has more direct methods.”

“Wait- wait, hold on a second!” Stiles’ father held up his hands and turned back to Stiles now. “Is that right, son?”

“Well...” Stiles sighed, looking around at the people again. He hated this. He had things to figure out, he had to know why the fox called him master, and why he tried to kill him together with Peter and most importantly why the hell Peter’s absence made him colder as the time passed. “Yes, I... summoned him again. Just a few weeks ago.”

“You’ve had a familiar in our house for weeks?” the sheriff started, his routine of dealing with criminals was coming back. Stiles winced and nodded, biting in his lips. “Do you even know that’s against the law?!”

Stiles cleared his throat. Of course he knew that practicing magic without a license was forbidden. But no one was supposed to know about it. It wasn’t supposed to harm anyone...

“Maybe?” he tried, knowing damn well his father won’t bite it. While it wasn’t too common knowledge that only those with a license could practice magic legally, with the kind of upbringing Stiles had he should have known it. “But he wasn’t here all the time, he was sometimes... away.” Stiles answered at last and that made his father stand up and start a slow, nervous pacing around the room. “Dad, I... I’m sorry, I know I promised...” the boy started, leaning forward, but his father held up his hand, stopping him.

“We will talk about that later, now tell me, was that bastard the one who tried to bury you alive?” the sheriff asked.

“No, no it wasn’t him, I told you.” Stiles started a little impatient. “It was- I think it was someone else.” He huffed, looking around, pleading that they believed him.

“You think?” Derek frowned and finally he stepped closer. His expression was the most intense Stiles had ever seen on him. And Stiles knew that Derek was a good familiar, he was loyal and fiercely protective and most important he knew Peter just as much as Stiles did. Maybe even more. “In case Peter tried to kill you, then he has to go—“

“But it wasn’t him, how many times do I have to tell you?!” Stiles yelled suddenly, looking up at Derek. “Why would he put himself in that damn coffin then, huh?! It was made of Rowan wood! Someone wanted him and me both to bite the dust, okay?! Is that so hard to understand?!”

“It is.” Derek started, his jaw set as he was staring at Stiles, not wavering at all. “Because it’s either the master or the familiar, not both. Who would want to kill you two together?”

“A fox.” came the quiet response and Stiles went still. It wasn’t him who was speaking, but Lydia. She sighed tired and long, looking at Stiles. “It was a fox, wasn’t it?”

Stiles licked his lips, eying her with newfound curiosity. How did she know? And why? It sounded like she knew it for a long time and all that was happening just made her fears come true. Lydia’s wide eyes were reflecting fear and sadness and Stiles wanted to move to comfort her, to take her hand to tell her it will be alright... But he didn’t know how exactly it was going to be alright.

“I could hear its voice.” Lydia said, looking around. “That’s all I know. So it wasn’t the wolf, it was the fox.” she continued quietly. Stiles felt his throat tighten, because he didn’t want to drag more people into this. And now all the most important people in his life were dragged in. And he hated it.

“It was a familiar?” the sheriff asked, frowning. After a second of silence, Stiles nodded.

“Yes.” he said, clearing his throat. The fox must have been a familiar, it looked and felt like a familiar. But it called Stiles master and that was the key to solve this, Stiles knew. But he didn’t want to tell it to these people. Not yet, when he barely understood what was happening himself.

“That means he has a master.” his father continued, looking around. “It means he received orders from someone.” Stiles swallowed and he hated how Scott’s and Derek’s heads turned to him again as his heart skipped a beat. Damn werewolves and their hearing.

“I don’t know, dad, all I know is that some furry was giving me a hell of a night, okay?” the boy said, rubbing his cheek. “Maybe it was just a joke...”

“A joke where I have to receive a phone call from a banshee that you’re screaming for help in a coffin buried six feet under at the Nemeton and about to suffocate to death?!” the sheriff snapped suddenly and Stiles jumped. He couldn’t dare look at his father, his cheeks flushed from shame. Because he knew how horrible that must have felt. He knew these phone calls, he knew how it felt to get the news of something terrible happening. His stomach sank and his hands started to shake, but he was trying not to give into his panic, not now.

“I think we should go.” Lydia started quietly, standing up.

“Wait- I just want to...” Scott started, but she put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“I’m sure it can wait until next time. You two hang out like Siamese twins anyway, there’ll be time to catch up.” Lydia sighed.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s fine Scott, go. I’ll meet you at school.” Stiles said, his voice hoarse, but he still didn’t dare to look up.

The others left, taking Derek with them and Stiles could feel himself breathing just a little bit easier. Until his father sat down next to him. The boy could feel his heavy stare on him, his expression must reflect his worry and sadness and maybe still that anger over his helplessness.

“Will you ever stop lying to me, Stiles?” his father started quietly and Stiles’ heart broke. Even if he could feel it bleed out, draining him and bringing the tears, he knew damn well he deserved this. He deserved all of this, because ever since his mother died he was a terrible son and a worse friend and now it had just turned into something catastrophic.

“I...” Stiles started, feeling his tears roll down his cheeks suddenly. He quickly put down his mug and wiped his face with the blanket.

“This is the second time you come back from the verge of death crying, you know that?” his father continued and Stiles nodded without a word. The first one was when he ran away and cast a spell that cut huge gashes on his back to give room for wings he could never use just to get them ripped out by Peter.

“I’m sorry...” Stiles sniffed, closing his eyes. He really didn’t know what else to say. He always went ahead without thinking, he wanted to know things, experience things. He wanted his father to see that magic wasn’t as dangerous and all this time he kept proving the opposite.

“You’re not going to give up, are you.” the sheriff sighed. It wasn’t a question. Even Stiles knew that despite he almost died, he wasn’t going to give up magic. He had talent, he was powerful and there were things he needed to figure out and end as soon as possible. “You’re just like your mother.” his father stated quietly and Stiles froze. He finally dared to look up at his father, still feeling a jab of pain in his chest at his weary expression.

“Smart and beautiful?” Stiles asked in a hoarse voice. His father’s lips pulled into a sad smile.

“Stubborn.” the sheriff said with a sigh. “But there’s nothing wrong with that, as long as you’re still here and alive.”

In the silence that fell upon them, Stiles felt a momentarily calmness washing over him. Yes, he was alive and everything should be fine. Though he realized he missed Peter. Where did he go when he leaves him? And why does it feel worse each time?

“I never told you the real reason why I forbid you to practice magic after she died, did I?” Stiles heard his father’s voice and it took him a moment to realize the weight of those words. He frowned a little, tilting his head to look at his father.

“I thought... it’s because magic reminds you of her, and you don’t want to...” Stiles muttered, but the sheriff shook his head.

“It really reminds me of her, but I wouldn’t ban anything that could make me remember her. I don’t want to forget her, Stiles, not even for a moment.” the man spoke softly, his words sinking inside Stiles like rocks, making his stomach and chest heavier. “I forbid you to practice magic because it was what killed her.”

Stiles went still at his father’s confession. For a second he thought his father was lying, but why would he lie about something this serious? The boy felt his hands tremble as he was parting his lips to speak.

“What happened?” he asked. His father took a heavy breath, collecting his thoughts and even for those few seconds Stiles felt like days were passing.

“When it was clear she was sick, she said she didn’t want to bother me with it. She said I can do my job, I can aim to be the sheriff and she will be fine.” the man started speaking. “I asked how are you going to do that? Summon little gnomes to help around with the house and the kid?” he chuckled a little and turned his head, looking at Stiles. “And she said yes, yes I’m going to do just that.”

“She...” Stiles gasped, staring back into his father’s face. But he didn’t finish his thought, his father did.

“She summoned a familiar, yes.” the sheriff nodded. “She summoned a fox who was supposed to help her, to help us in her last years. I was against it, I told her I can help her, but she didn’t want to hear about it. She said I should live a full life without her weighing me down...”

“Dad...” the boy started, reaching out to place his hand on his father’s shoulder. “It’s- it’s okay...”

“I let her do it, I let her summon that bastard, I believed it was going to be fine.” the sheriff continued, rubbing his forehead. “And the next thing I know that fox is strangling her on her hospital bed just a few weeks later. I saw it happen, but I was too late to interfere.”

As his father was talking, Stiles’ ears started to ring, his body went colder and his mind almost blank. All he could see was that fox leaning over her mother’s bed, with his long and grey fingers wrapped around her neck and squeezing the last of her life out of her.

“Why did it kill her?” Stiles heard himself ask in a whisper. His father shook his head.

“The detectives from the magically talented department said that sometimes a familiar can kill their master to take their powers.” the sheriff spoke. “They said it was probably what happened. That fox grew greedy and took Claudia’s talent for himself.”

Stiles licked his lips, thinking about his father’s words. His head started to hurt and his whole world just got darker and twisted. It was like losing a kind of innocence. Stiles felt somewhat older by hearing about his mother’s death and he couldn’t explain why. He didn’t cry, he didn’t shout or yell, but he was feeling a kind of dull ache that was worse than anything. Something he thought he could never get rid of again. Something his father also carried with him and now he shared it with his son.

“I thought the fox had also died with her, but apparently...” the sheriff continued quietly.

“It’s still around.” Stiles whispered, nodding. So the fox was summoned by his mother and it killed her. But then why did he call Stiles master? And why did he say he couldn’t hurt him?

His father assured Stiles that he will get him the protection he needed. Stiles also asked his father about Peter. Thankfully the sheriff wasn’t going to report the illegal summoning, but Stiles wasn’t sure he will let him keep Peter around any longer. Maybe he had to send him back to the Astral Plane...

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by Evy.

Stiles took a few days for himself after the incident. He didn’t go to school, he didn’t really get out of his bed either. He spoke to Scott and Lydia a few times by phone, but that was all the communication he wanted to have. He knew he should go and find the fox, or find Peter. Or that he should open the Spellbook at least, but he did none of that.

Mrs. McCall said it was probably the shock from the incident and that he will be over it after a  few days. But no rush, they all understood how getting buried alive and almost dying was kind of a big blow. Stiles hated it. He didn’t want to see Scott’s worried eyes on him, or the way Lydia’d purse her pretty lips in his presence. He didn’t need all that.

Talking to the agents from the magically talented department of the police wasn’t too rosy either. Stiles tried to give them as much details to satisfy them. He didn’t tell them that the fox called him master, or that he looked like him and he didn’t say a word about Peter either.

Peter had been missing ever since that day, ever since he told him to scream as loud as he could so people close to him would hear him. Stiles didn’t mind, because with all the attention around it would have been difficult to hide a familiar like Peter. So he let him go on his way, it wasn’t like he could call him, right? No, Peter had his own will, he had an own damn mind of his own and he would come back when he felt like it. Stiles just wished it didn’t feel so cold without the wolf. He couldn’t explain why, but the absence of Peter was like walking on a cold autumn morning without a coat, knowing you wouldn’t need one later in the day, but the warmth didn’t want to come. Stiles woke up shaking and freezing every day. He was glad they thought it was the shock, because he couldn’t explain to them why he would miss a murderous familiar who was accused of wanting to hurt him.

On some days, when Stiles couldn’t sleep, he would think about burning Peter the first damn second he came back. He would burn him and he would burn the Spellbook and everything and would go on with his life as if he had no magical talent. On other days he would swear that he would force Peter to spill all the secrets, he would learn all the spells and take the license from Lydia to read up all about magical history and spells.

There were also days when Stiles remembered his dreams, his memories... the one where he wakes up in a sunlit room, looks at an orange colored sky and sees a war that destroyed the land. He would see Peter next to him and would talk to him in a different language, something Stiles had never heard before. These dreams were cloudy and he would never remember them completely, they always escaped him during the day, but returned when the night fell.

And one night Stiles felt like a warm blanket was covering him from head to toe. His body relaxed, his lungs let out a relieved sigh and his dreams promised him light instead of the darkness. But as his hazy brain realized what the sensation meant, he forced himself to wake up. Stiles scrambled to sit up in bed, staring around the room. The bedside light was still on as he couldn’t sleep without a light anymore unless waking up to nightmares and panic attacks.

Stiles could easily spot Peter standing by the window and he refused to acknowledge the skip in his heartbeat. There was only a second hesitation in Stiles’ movements as he reached for the lighter on the nightstand. But as he took it, Peter’s hand was already on his wrist, squeezing it so tight Stiles knew he would have bruises in the morning.

“Now now Master, don’t get hasty.” Peter’s voice rumbled around him, his fingers were cold against his skin. Stiles bit in his lips in anger, glaring up at the wolf. His heart wanted to burst out of his chest, his limbs trembled to do something.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Stiles hissed, still gripping the lighter tightly in his hands.

“I saved your life. For the second time.” Peter started. The boy bit down on his lower lip hard. “And you want to thank me for it by killing me?” the wolf asked, not loosening his hold on Stiles’ wrist. Though the boy could feel his fingers getting warmer against him.

“You left.” Stiles retorted quietly, trying to fight for every word that left his throat, because it was difficult. It was difficult to talk, to even look at Peter, to be in one room with him and yet he didn’t want to do anything else. And that was dangerous. Stiles knew deep inside that the sanest, best solution would be to get that lighter and burn Peter forever. He could get Lydia’s license and could even start working on getting his own. Stiles could go on and learn his magic without the help of an unreliable asshole.

“You’ve changed.” Peter answered lightly, but it hit Stiles like a punch in the gut. Had he? He probably had. Stiles didn’t feel the same. It felt like he couldn’t even remember how he was before he got out of that damn coffin. So he didn’t answer, just looked at Peter, his hand shaking. “Stop it.” The wolf suddenly spoke.

“Stop what?” Stiles asked with a dry throat, looking at Peter challenging.

“Calling me.” Peter said.

“I’m not calling you.” The boy frowned at the familiar. The wolf just smiled a little too sweetly, but Stiles could see fangs for a second. Then it sounded like the TV or radio slowly got louder and louder, until the whole room was echoing Stiles’ own voice... calling for Peter.

Stiles heard his own voice screaming, yelling in desperation for the wolf. It almost suffocated him, it was so thick and painful and it was his own voice. And he didn’t even know.

“This is what I hear ever since I left you, Master.” Peter’s words were low and soft, and yet Stiles could still hear them like they were whispered against his ears. He shivered. “Stop it.”

“How can I stop it when I don’t even know I’m doing it?!” Stiles asked, yanking his hand to free it from Peter’s grip, but the wolf didn’t let go. Instead he pushed him down on the bed, taking Stiles’ other wrist too when the boy wanted to push him off. “What are you doing!?” the boy asked, squirming. But he knew Peter couldn’t hurt him, well, he had an order, but Peter could break orders. He could do whatever he wanted...

“I’m here now, Stiles, so stop calling me.” Peter hissed, shaking his wrists a little and Stiles gave an annoyed sound. His own voice was still echoing around them, still making him want to shout out for silence. For Peter to stop whatever he was doing... But then the voices stopped and silence fell so sudden on Stiles that his ears were ringing. For a second he didn’t know what had happened. All he knew was that something soft and warm was pressing against his lips and it was a sensation Stiles had felt before. It was familiar.

Peter was kissing him.

Stiles frowned heavily, not reacting to the kiss, but stared up at the wolf as he pulled back. The screaming and yelling had died around them and Peter looked too damn smug for his own good.

“I’m back.” Peter said in a low voice, his eyes glowing electric blue for a second. Stiles thought he would pull away and let him be and for a second he didn’t want that. The wolf just stared down at him in a few seconds of hesitation then leaned in again for another kiss.

“Wait...!” Stiles gasped, trying to move his arms, but Peter still held him captive as he kissed him again. This time a little more demanding and Stiles reacted. He kissed back. Wait, why?

“Oh, this is exactly why I didn’t want to come back to you Master.” Peter mumbled against his lips and a hand cupped his cheek, a thumb swiping over Stiles’ cheekbone.

“What are you talking about...” Stiles asked, leaning into Peter’s touch before he knew what he was doing. Actually, he had only a little idea of what was going on, but he was aware that Peter’s presence was more significant than before. Peter was here and Stiles could feel him with all his mind and body. And soul. Stiles couldn't explain it, but he could feel some emptiness being filled in him as Peter was there with him and touching him.

"You know damn well." the familiar hissed, sliding his hand down on Stiles' throat and the boy gasped. Suddenly the scene his father had described about his mother's death flashed in front of his eyes. The way that fox had strangled her. Stiles whimpered, reaching for the wolf's hand. Peter wasn’t strangling him, he was just stroking his throat softly with his fingertips before he leaned in and kissed the pale skin there.

Stiles gasped, his eyes widening. Because it was a touch he knew. But he was sure he never let Peter kiss him and not in this way. Yet, as the wolf proceeded to pepper soft, small kisses down his skin it felt like Stiles was coming home.

"Peter..." he whispered, opening his eyes, only realizing just now that he had closed them.

"Stiles..." the familiar called his name too. Stiles heard his words, but it sounded like Peter was calling a different name and yet it was still Stiles' name. The boy let out a soft breath, sliding his hand into Peter's hair. Something complicated was happening, he knew that. It was more than kisses and desire. Something was breaking.

"Wait, wait... Peter, wait..." Stiles tried a bit more alarmed, but as he felt the wolf's palms against his skin as they slid under his shirt, his words turned into moans.

"Do you really want me to wait?" Peter's voice poured over him like honey and Stiles lost all his will to stop what was happening. Why would he when he wanted it?

When Peter's lips met Stiles' again, the boy slid both of his arms around his neck and arched into his body. Stiles had only little sexual experience, taken he was kind of a nerd and had magical talent which really wasn't too popular with the ladies and gents. He kissed a few times when he could score in parties and once had a practice session with Scott, but that was all. And yet, as Peter touched him it didn't feel like the first time. It felt like they had met again after a long, long time. It wasn't just a few days. It was a lifetime...

"I missed you." Stiles heard himself whisper and Peter nodded.

"I missed you too." the wolf said quietly and Stiles wasn’t sure if he meant these few days behind them. It felt like it was a confession of a longer time, for something they had been waiting for far too long. Peter slid his arm around the boy's waist, pulling him up from the bed and on his lap. Stiles straddled Peter's thighs, pressing his chest against his. The wolf’s skin felt hot under his fingers. Stiles caught himself kissing him and thinking he wanted to feel his naked skin against his. And as the thought was going through Stiles' mind, his hands slid down on Peter's suddenly naked shoulders.

"Ah..." Stiles gasped against Peter's lips. "That's a neat trick." he breathed, his hands stroking warm skin.

"I know." Peter smirked, his eyes roaming Stiles face and the boy felt himself blush under that gaze. "Want to see it again?" the wolf asked, sliding his hands up Stiles bare skin. The boy's shirt disappeared.

"I- wai- uh..." Stiles stuttered, swallowing and looking down at himself for a second. Just so he could watch Peter press his lips against the blooming blush on his collarbone. His scruff was a completely new sensation against Stiles' skin, but not unpleasant. The boy moaned softly, sliding one arm around Peter's shoulders.

Touching the wolf and being touched was nice. Stiles imagined this many times before, of course in his dreams he was touching softer skin, and he was always smelling Dior. Yes, he’d mostly imagined this with Lydia and yet now a man, Peter, was working hard to suck a hickey into his neck. Stiles was so hard in his underwear it was almost a sin. But there was something more, something different about touching Peter. Stiles felt a familiar, yet unknown sensation under his fingers as he was stroking Peter's shoulders and chest. Their skin was filled with tension, similar to electric tension. And as the wolf looked at him finally, Stiles understood: it was magic. That was pure magic between them, Stiles could feel it. He could feel Peter's powers along with his own. And it was addictive.

Stiles let out a sigh and grabbed the back of the wolf's neck, pulling him to him with a bit more strength than was necessary. But Peter didn't let himself be dragged around. He leaned in and kissed like he wanted to win a fight. The boy whimpered and yet he still arched up into Peter's body. Before Stiles knew it Peter pushed him down on the bed and spread his legs to find his way between them. Stiles' let out a groan that was more impatient than ever before, he was needy for something he never had... And then Peter squeezed him through his boxers and Stiles felt extremely proud of himself that he didn’t come in that exact moment, even if it was a close call.

Peter chuckled deep in his throat as he continued to massage Stiles with hot and steady fingers and the boy arched up to his touch. For a moment it ran through his mind that what they were doing was taboo, because master and familiar shouldn’t get involved like this, but Stiles couldn’t recall exactly why. Why would they forbid something as sweet as this?

“Oh my god...!” Stiles gasped when he felt a tongue swirl over the head of his already too sensitive dick. He looked down just to find Peter having a taste of him before he took him into his mouth. “Oh god, oh god, Peter..!” the boy squirmed and the wolf put his hands on his hips to stop him from thrusting up. Peter’s mouth was hot and wet and Stiles already felt himself grow too fond of the sensation. He understood all that swooning about blowjobs now, he understood everything. His hands found their way into Peter’s hair, grabbing him and trying to urge him on, but the wolf continued in his own pace, making Stiles go crazy. It wasn’t fair, Stiles felt like he was going to die from pleasure. And when he thought it can’t get better, Peter squeezed his balls, making him come into his mouth. Stiles cursed out loud as his body tensed up and his hips tried to pump up to take everything Peter’s mouth offered.

“You taste sweeter than I thought, Master.” Peter’s voice was too soft against his ears and Stiles had to open his eyes again to look at the familiar hovering over him. The wolf was licking his lips so satisfied as if he just had the creamiest, tastiest meal in his life and Stiles shouldn’t find that this hot. Peter was looking at him like he’d found his prey once again and just for a second, Stiles felt fear again. He’d been afraid of Peter at the beginning, when they’d first met, but somehow he got used to the feeling. Yet, right now he felt fear which was coming along with the feeling of old memories.

Stiles swallowed, sliding his hands to cup Peter’s cheeks with trembling fingers, feeling his stubble. He felt the familiar buzzing as their skin touched, their powers roaming under the surface.

“Did you know?” Peter started suddenly, his eyes gleaming with something Stiles didn’t want to think too much about. “It’s taboo.” the wolf said and the boy’s heart skipped a beat. “Master and familiar could never be involved.”

“Why?” Stiles asked, licking his lips.

“It’s something only mages know.” Peter shrugged, tilting his head to lean down and kiss Stiles. “We familiars could never know.” he chuckled, pulling back in the last moment, just to watch Stiles chase him. The boy felt a blush of shame creep up his cheeks.

“But you’re not like the others.” Stiles whispered, pulling Peter down to kiss him and feel him more against him. To feel that electric shock against his skin, to take Peter and never let him go. Taboo or not, this didn’t feel like something they shouldn’t do, but something that was overdue...

“Oh, I’m not.” the wolf spoke, kissing back. “And I’m not going to let a stupid rule like this prevent me from feeling this pleasure with you.” he growled, pressing his hips against Stiles’. Peter was big and ready, making Stiles shiver from need once again, even if his body needed a bit more time to recover.

“Do you want me to..?” Stiles asked, swallowing the drool from his mouth at the thought of Peter’s cock in his mouth.

“This will do just fine.” Peter smirked and rolled Stiles over on his stomach, his hand stroking his back. Stiles gasped, looking over his shoulder at Peter. He wasn’t sure if he was prepared enough for this.

‘ _Don’t worry, I will take good care of you._ ’ the familiar hummed in his head. Stiles’ lips parted to ask something or say something or anything, but only a gasp escaped him as he felt Peter’s fingers. They were wet and invasive and Stiles grabbed onto the sheets in his surprise. “Shh, Stiles, it’s fine, I’ll make it good.” Peter whispered into his ear and somehow it didn’t exactly calm Stiles down. But then the wolf slowly slid into him deeper and pressed on the sweetest spot Stiles could ever imagine.

“Oh, fuck-!” the boy gasped again, his body shivering under the sensation. “Oh god-“ he moaned as Peter continued to prepare him without missing any chance at making him jump in pleasure. Stiles saw stars and he was hard in no time, even the slight pain had been forgotten.

“Are you ready for me?” Peter asked him and Stiles didn’t really understand the question for a second. He just panted, raising his head from the mattress to look at the wolf, but then he felt the man spread his legs more.

“Aah..!” Stiles groaned out loud when he felt the Peter’s thick and heavy cock slide into him. How could he ever be ready for this? It stretched him the right way, maybe a bit painful, but the sensation of being filled up by Peter was yet another feeling Stiles felt already addicted to. His lips parted on his heavy breaths, his eyes closed so he could focus on Peter’s touches and his length and his barely audible moans.

Stiles felt the magic spark between them once again as Peter started to take him with long and deep movements. His blood was boiling, his head was spinning and Stiles felt more and more powerful as his pleasure was building up. He wanted more. Spreading his legs, he invited Peter deeper, wanting to give him everything and demanding all of the wolf too.

“Deeper...” Stiles choked out and Peter leaned down his head, burying his face into his neck. He was breathing heavily as his limbs were trembling just as much as his master’s.

“As you wish, Master.” Peter breathed into his skin and Stiles saw double. He was rock hard against the sheets again, leaking already.

Peter was moving his hips with more force, snapping them against Stiles’. He was nuzzling at the boy’s neck, kissing and biting as he was riding his pleasure. But the best part was when he licked into Stiles’ ear before he whispered such filth that Stiles lost all the strength from his limbs. Peter called his name, told him how deep and tight he was and how well he was taking him, despite how inexperienced he was. Peter told him he would want to continue fucking him all night and all day until no one else could give him this pleasure, but him, and Stiles loved it. He listened to the wolf’s voice, felt his shaking, possessive hands around his hips holding him close to his body as his own was slapping against his.

The sounds of their heavy breathing, the slapping of naked skin and wet noise as Peter buried himself deep was just getting too much to Stiles. He reached down, between his own legs, just to find Peter’s fingers already curling around his hard flesh.

“Peter, Peter... please...” Stiles hated his voice then. He was begging, he was almost sobbing, and there were indeed tears in his eyes from how hard he was keeping them shut. His chest was swelling as he felt Peter’s skin touch his more and more.

“Oh, Master, you don’t have to ask twice.” Stiles loved how strained Peter’s voice was, like he was on the edge just like him. But Stiles had no more time to think about it, because he came the next second. He saw white for a moment as his body was shaking with waves of desire and pleasure and Peter was letting him have it all. Stiles thought it would never end as he collapsed on the bed and he was still feeling himself riding high under the actions of Peter. Somewhere in the middle he felt the wolf tense up too and Stiles whimpered as he felt himself being filled with Peter’s seed.

Yes, Stiles may not have had too many sexual experiences before, but even he could tell that this wasn’t ordinary sex. Besides it being the most amazing sex he ever had, he felt his own magic reacted with Peter’s. He could feel Peter’s magic in a way he had never before and yet... it wasn’t alien. Stiles felt like he was almost remembering something, but couldn’t exactly. Though he couldn’t really think about it as the wolf slid his arm around his chest and pulled him close to his body. The warmth of his skin and breath on his neck was enough for Stiles to fall asleep just seconds later.

\--

Stiles figured the morning will be awkward. With scrambling around for clothes and trying not to look at each other. So he felt a little scared to open his eyes and start his day. Though the alarm scratched it all out, he had to go to school. It was the first time in days that he had the urge to do something, to go on after he had almost died. After he almost died with Peter... So the boy sighed and rolled on his back to look at the wolf lying next to him. Peter was already awake, watching him with half lidded eyes and for a second Stiles wanted to know what he was thinking about. Had this night meant something for Peter? Or was it just fooling around...? Peter had told him that familiars don’t feel sexual attraction, only rarely when they receive enough of their powers to turn into a human body. No wonder Peter was so greedy. And Stiles let him have it all.

‘ _Good morning._ ’ Peter’s voice was soft and reassuring in his mind and Stiles sighed. No awkwardness here.

‘ _To you too._ ’ the boy said back, still eying the wolf. For a second he thought of looking around in Peter’s head. Of the things he would be thinking about, of his thoughts and feelings, but for some reason, Stiles still felt that would be too invading. So instead he just sat up in bed, rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes and wondered how he should present Peter to his father. Definitely in a way that would make Peter stay with him, because Stiles needed him. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that Peter was also a part of the mystery the fox had presented to him.

“You know, I need to introduce you to my dad.” Stiles sighed, looking down at the lazily stretching wolf next to him.

“I didn’t know we’re already at that part in our relationship.” Peter purred and Stiles punched his shoulder.

“I’m serious. Derek told him about you, I can’t keep you a secret anymore. Maybe it’s for the best.” The boy sighed, rubbing his fist, because damn Peter had some strong shoulders.

“You do know that your father is not going to be convinced.” Peter started, eying Stiles. The boy sighed, biting in his lips. “His wife was killed by a familiar.” the wolf continued and Stiles frowned.

“How did you...?” he asked, but as the wolf raised a pointed eyebrow at him, Stiles realized. Damn it, Peter looked into his head without permission once again.

“How much do you know?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as he got out of bed to get dressed. His father would be home soon from his night shift and he wanted to wait for him with breakfast to maybe try and make their chances better. And he just couldn’t stay still, not when Peter was talking about his mother’s death.

“I know enough.” Peter said. “I know that the fox was the one taking your mother and apparently he wanted to take you too.” he muttered quietly, his eyes never leaving Stiles. The boy could just feel that Peter had one nagging question on his mind. He knew that, because it was the question he was thinking about the most himself. “Why did it call you master?” Peter finally asked and Stiles stomped with his foot. He didn’t want to hear that question out loud, not after what he’d learned about his mother’s death. He couldn’t accept that something like that, something so evil, would ever call him Master.

“I don’t know!” Stiles answered at last, spreading his arms.

“It shouldn’t call anyone master at this point.” Peter frowned, finally looking away from the boy. “It’s strong enough to go on its own, Stiles. That fox broke free of its shackles.” he muttered. His voice was thick and hollow and Stiles knew: Peter was jealous. Peter wanted freedom too, he was working hard for it for god knows how long, he killed, he took and he was only a little away from his own freedom. Stiles was aware that in case Peter ever decides to act on it, he just has to break his order of not hurting him and come at his current master.

“How would you know? If it called me Master then it’s obviously not free.” the boy ranted, dragging on his jeans.

“Would he have stopped if you said no?” Peter wondered and that made Stiles stop in his tracks. He was looking at the wolf frowning.

“He said he had orders.”

“Did you order him?”

“Why would I order him to kill both of us, are you out of your mind?!”

“And it still calls you master.” Peter pointed out. Stiles bit his lower lip. He was eying Peter, trying to think about the fox and come up with something, but nothing, absolutely nothing came to him as a solution. None of it was making sense. It made his head hurt and he also felt something else, something similar to guilt, but he couldn’t exactly recall of what.

“I just want to ask one thing.” Stiles started then with a sigh. “Just... don’t say that the fox was calling me Master, okay? In fact, the official version is that he didn’t say anything, alright?”

“As you wish, Master.” Peter chuckled, spreading his arms. Stiles nodded, licking his lips. Alright, they were going to do this.

Though Stiles’ hopes somehow started to shake when he spotted another car following his dad’s to the house. He also hated to know who that car belonged to.

Chris Argent.

Stiles rubbed his cheek as he was looking through the kitchen window as the two men got out of their cars and walked to the house. He also didn’t like that expression on his father’s face. It was something heavy, something that made Stiles’ stomach drop, something that said ‘I’m doing this for your own benefit even if you don’t agree with me’ and Stiles got scared that maybe they weren’t able to do this. The boy sighed, looking over at Peter who was sitting by the kitchen table, not looking too promising either. He was huge and despite that soft smile on his lips his eyes were still cold and Stiles knew his father could tell if someone was a bad man or not just by looking. And Peter didn’t look like a good man, at all. Despite he was a familiar. Also, Chris Argent was a mysterious man and there must be a reason why his father was bringing him along.

As Mr. Stilinski and Mr. Argent entered the kitchen, Stiles stomach dropped and he could feel that Peter wasn’t entirely calm either right now.

“Hi, Dad.” The boy started, but his eyes were on the other man who was looking at him like a piece of meat. Stiles hoped he had just imagined Peter growling, because he did not want to start a fight, not when he was trying to convince these people that Peter can stay.

“Stiles.” The sheriff sighed with a nod, then looked at Peter. Though he didn’t say anything. “This is Mr. Argent, he’s gonna... he’s going to be the help I promised you.”

“Wha- what help?” Stiles frowned, looking between the two men.

“You’ve been targeted by someone. I told you I’ll do everything to protect you. And Mr. Argent here can help with that.” The sheriff spoke and his words were so heavy Stiles felt his shoulders slump with each breath. He was eying the man, Allison’s father, and just realized he knew nothing about him, or about Allison for that matter.

“Are you from the magically talented department?” Stiles asked, licking his lips. The man smiled, looking away for a moment. It was an amused smile, something that showed he wasn’t exactly happy to be mistaken for someone from that department.

“No, Stiles, I’m actually a hunter.” Chris said, turning his gaze back to the boy. Stiles felt himself pale and he also hoped he didn’t just hear Peter growl again by the table. Hunters were different than the magically talented. Hunters were only hunting supernatural creatures, but they were sometimes asked as experts in magically committed crimes and that also made them a kind of enemy to the magically talented. They could have said anything and any jury without any knowledge of magic would have believed them. Hunters were dangerous in many ways. Sometimes their word was believed more than that of a magical expert or spellmaster, because they usually had no magical talents. People could relate to them more, people could see them as the saviors from bad magic... And it was dangerous. But of course, his father couldn’t go to any official department, since Stiles was illegally practicing magic with Peter’s summoning.

“Let’s sit down and talk. Do you want coffee?” the sheriff sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he walked to the table.

“No thank you, I’d rather sort this out quick.” Mr. Argent answered, but he was focused on Peter by the table.

As Stiles took a seat next to the familiar, watching the two other men sit down as well, he felt like this was going to be the most awkward ‘family’ dinner of all times. At least he could finally top Scott’s ‘my parents told me they will get a divorce’ dinner. He took a deep breath, glancing at Peter for a second.

“So uh, this is Peter.” Stiles started and felt that it could have been better. Not this lame. For example, ‘hi Dad, this is Peter and he’s not gonna kill me as long as he can’t break his orders. Fun, huh? Also, we had sex last night.’. Stiles just wanted to go back to his room and hide in his closet.

“The familiar has to go.” was the first thing Stiles heard and it wasn’t from his father’s mouth, but from Argent’s. He licked his lips, eying the hunter a little. He wanted to shout that ‘no way!’, but he knew that acting like a brat in this situation wasn’t actually going to help them.

“No, dad, listen.” Stiles started. Better to approach someone he could convince once before, rather than a cold ass hunter.

“Stiles, I listened. I listened all this time, I let you go, I didn’t punish you. And look how it ended up.” His father started, motioning toward Peter. “You almost died.”

“Well- yes, but- but Peter can help me. He’s actually pretty strong and he’s smart, he can teach me about my magic.” Stiles started and saw Argent scoff.

“He’s strong, but he flees when you need him. He can teach you, but Dr. Deaton can do the same without posing a threat.” the hunter pointed out. Stiles frowned at him. So he knew the whole story.

“You already decided this.” the boy said, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, this is for your own good, kid.” Argent started, putting his elbows on the table. His cold, blue glance was emitting a different kind of coldness than Peter’s. And Stiles hated that he knew the difference. “The fox started to target you when this anomaly showed up.”

“Now that’s something they never called me before. And they called me a lot of things.” Peter remarked, tilting his head to the side and eying Argent with a soft smile on his lips that was not friendly at all.

“I’m sure about that.” Argent remarked with a tight smile, but it was clear he had no intention to talk more than these few words with the familiar. And Peter felt this too. Stiles wanted to let him release all his snark at the two men in front of them, because he was angry. Once again adults came and told him what he should do for the matter of his safety.

“Peter stays.” Stiles said as a matter of fact.

“He goes, son.” the sheriff started. “He may be the reason the fox returned and I’m not going to risk more lives, especially not yours, because of your stubbornness.”

“More lives? What do you m—“ Stiles started, but in that moment he looked at Mr. Argent; he knew: Allison. The official version was that Allison had been robbed, but it wasn’t adding up. Stiles knew that his father must know that too, but they never told anyone what must have been the real reason of Allison’s death.

And now, Stiles got presented with a bit of truth about her. She died because of the fox too.

“He goes.” Mr. Argent said when his gaze met with Stiles’. The boy felt his throat go dry and tried to tell himself that it may not be Allison his father was referring to. But it just made so much sense... “Do you hear me, Stiles? The wolf goes.”

“He has to go Stiles, otherwise you’re not safe. And I don’t want you to learn magic like this.” The sheriff said and Stiles was glad that he could focus on something else before a panic attack could engulf him. “I will talk with Dr. Deaton, he can teach you and help you get that license and after that you can do whatever you want with your magic.”

There was a beat of silence, broken by Peter’s snort.

“Wait, what?” Stiles frowned then, looking around. “You- you’re gonna let me do magic and get a license?” he asked frowning.

“Do I have any other choice, Stiles? You’ll keep doing this...” he motioned at Peter. “Even if I tell you to stop. And without supervision you’re going to...” he didn’t finish that sentence, but Stiles knew what his father meant. He swallowed, looking at Peter again. Here was their chance.

“Okay, so... so if I get that license, I can... do whatever I want?” Stiles asked, holding up his hands.

“Not exactly.” Mr. Argent started. “If you try dark magic I’m afraid I have to escort you to a lovely room with shackles and no windows.” Stiles frowned at him.

“There’s no such thing as dark magic.” Peter chuckled, getting the hunter’s attention again.

“Is that so?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, clearly expecting an explanation.

“No magic is dark or pure.” the wolf said. “Only the intention they use it for is.”

“In that case, I saw many men and women use their talent for the most heinous crimes. All thinking they are better, superior. And I’m tired of it.” Argent hissed and Stiles could see the small smirk on Peter’s lips as the other man was losing patience.

“You get your chance, son.” The sheriff said in a raised voice. “But for that you need to let the familiar go. Mr. Deaton will help you get your license and Mr. Argent here will... He will help with keeping you safe.”

Stiles swallowed, eying his father and the hunter. He wasn’t expecting this. He was expecting more yelling, more drama, but definitely not a chance for a magical license. But for what cost? He didn’t answer, just looked down. And he already knew what he will answer.

"Sort that out with yourself and tell me when you're ready. I want to be there when you get rid of him." the hunter started so suddenly Stiles jumped a little. "Tonight, preferably."

Stiles was still silent, eying some stain on the table when his father and Mr. Argent stood up. His chest was burning from anger and excitement.

' _You're not going to do as they say, are you?_ ' He heard Peter's voice in his head when the sheriff walked their guest outside. Stiles looked at the wolf. The boy bit his lower lip and judging by Peter's frown, the wolf didn't like the decision he was about to make.

' _How do you know they will let you get that license?_ ' Peter asked and stiles could swear he heard a growl in his voice even when it was speaking directly into his head.

"He's my father. I trust him more than anyone, despite him bringing a hunter to me." Stiles said. "With the license, I can do so much more. I could practice magic, I could--" he started, but Peter suddenly leaned over to him, his gaze intense.

"I could teach you more than any mortal on this world. And as I recall you didn't have much problem with practicing magic before either." the wolf hissed. Stiles swallowed, eying Peter with a hard glance. He could actually feel the familiar's despair and anger.

"I will summon you again when I'm allowed to. When they can’t force me to get rid of you." Stiles said. Peter snorted, leaning back and the boy hated the cold gaze he received.

"How do you know I'm still going to be here when you get back from school? Waiting for you to burn me?" he asked. Peter was bluffing, Stiles could tell. And it actually made it worse.

"I just know." Stiles said at last. The familiar sighed. "You can always come with me to school, if you make sure no one can see you." he added shrugging.

"Just to be surrounded by the obnoxious teenagers of this century? I'd rather skip." Peter sighed, crossing his arms. Stiles sighed, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't decide if he was happy or sad. Bittersweet maybe. But at least he had the urge to go to school finally.

"You can always skip this one day of school and stay." he heard Peter's voice suddenly. Stiles frowned at him.

"And what would we do, sleepover party?" the boy asked, snorting. Peter just raised an eyebrow and Stiles understood. "OH! Oh, you mean..! I uh.... I don't know." The boy stuttered, blushing.

"Your body tells differently." Peter chuckled.

"You don't talk for my body, okay?" Stiles swallowed. "I'm just not sure, I mean... isn't it taboo?" he asked, nibbling on his lower lip. Peter rolled his eyes.

"I think we're already over this, Stiles." the wolf sighed. "It's probably one of those rules the mages set so people aren't summoning familiars all over the place to shag them."

"Most familiars are animals..." Stiles frowned.

"I wasn't saying it's not sick, of course." Peter shrugged and the boy chuckled a little.

The sheriff returned with heavy shoulders and years lost from his life. He looked so tired and weak Stiles felt such fear that he was going to lose him.  He once again told how he was doing this to protect Stiles, and he was doing this for his own good. And Stiles believed him. He knew his father was acting out of love, but in the mean time he was choking him. But with the current deal on the table, Stiles would try to behave, because the prize was huge.

So he had to burn Peter tonight. Say goodbye to him. Let him go... possibly forever. The thought somewhat scared him once again.

"Can I ask you something?" Stiles asked softly when he and Peter returned to his room. "When you leave... where do you go?" Stiles saw Peter hesitate for a second. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me, I suppose it's all shady business... Just tell me you didn't kill anyone."

"I didn't kill anyone." Peter smirked and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You just said that because I asked you to.” the boy sighed and the wolf grinned all too widely. Stiles wanted to smack him. Joking around when his chest was so heavy. Stupid wolf.

“I can’t tell you.” Peter started then and held out his hand. “But I can show you.” he said, motioning Stiles over with his fingers. “Though then of course you’re not going to school today.”

Stiles licked his lips, eying Peter a little unsure. But in the end he decided to go with him. He was aware that the wolf could break orders, he could even drag him to somewhere, strike him and leave his dead body there. Peter could do anything he wanted to not be sent back to the Astral Plane after all. Stiles was sure if the wolf wanted to, he could get around it.

But for some strange reason, Stiles decided to trust Peter and walked to him, taking his hand.

“So where do you go?” Stiles asked again and Peter smirked. The boy frowned at him, but then he felt his body getting lighter. It felt like he was jumping down from somewhere and nearing the sensation of zero gravity, yet his feet never left the ground. He could feel the warmth of the air around them as Peter was working his magic. It was flowing through their bodies, lifting them and carrying them somewhere, though it didn’t feel like it. Stiles felt like he was levitating and he squeezed Peter’s hand tighter.

When they reached their destination, though Stiles had no idea where it was, everything went back to normal. Stiles felt the gravity again, though his breath came a little short. He looked up at Peter for a second, just to be blinded by the setting sun’s rays. It was morning where they had left, but here it was dawn. Stiles frowned, looking around them, not exactly recognizing the place.

“We just crossed the globe.” Peter explained to him, looking at the sun. The more Stiles was standing there, holding onto his familiar, the more he could gather from his environment. They were standing on rocks, near water, probably a sea or ocean.

“Holy crap.” the boy exclaimed in awe, looking around. The sky was glowing in red and blue, the stars were already visible, yet the sun hadn’t set yet, but was slowly descending behind the waves of the sea.

“I told you before, the soul can experience the worlds it lives in through the body.” Peter started, his fingers holding Stiles’ tighter. “Now that I have a body, I have eyes, I can look at something like this and feel it in my chest. It makes the soul richer.” he spoke softly. Stiles frowned a little, he wasn't exactly sure what Peter was implying. "Just look at it." the familiar told him and the boy looked at the scene too. It was calming. It smelled like the sea and grass, and the rays of the sun were warm on his cheeks. He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding.

"Yeah, it's pretty." Stiles said and Peter shook his head.

"It doesn't _have_ to be pretty." he said in a low tone. "It just has to make your soul richer."

Stiles frowned, looking over at Peter.

"What does it make you feel then?" the boy asked. The familiar sighed. "What do you think of this?" he motioned over at the sunset with their joined hands.

"Anticipation." Peter answered after a second, licking his lips. "I prefer the night to the day. At night people think they are hidden away. They share secrets, they are bolder... people show their real faces in the dark, at night." he smirked. Stiles swallowed, looking over the scene once again. The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon.

"You look at sunsets in your spare time then?" The mage asked in a mutter, his disbelief clearly visible. Peter turned his head toward him, his blue eyes turning almost purple in the red light.

"Not just sunsets." he shrugged.

"Then show me something you think is pretty." Stiles challenged and Peter let out a soft laugh.

"Would you really want to see something like that?" he asked. Stiles nodded, watching the face of the wolf intently. Peter just laughed softly and squeezed his master's hand to shift them once again to somewhere else. They arrived at a study, as far as Stiles could tell. He'd seen these rooms on TV and if he recalled the mayor had a similar office. With wood covered walls, huge bookcases and stupid looking sculptures here and there. But of course the desk was the most significant. It was huge and shiny, and showed that someone with too much money used it to sign contracts on it. But what really caught Stiles' eye were the little crystals on a blue velvet cloth on the desk.

"Diamonds." Peter answered quietly. Stiles bit his lower lip as he was looking around the room once again, but his gaze wandered back to the stones.

"You think diamonds are pretty?" he asked. "I was expecting something... I don't know, dramatic?" he asked, looking over the wolf. Though Peter’s smirk  showed him that he was not done.

"These particular diamonds... are from Africa. From one of the diamond mines." the familiar started. "They got stolen. They got murdered for. They were stolen in good will, a poor farmer wanted to help his family. He wanted to buy food for his pregnant wife. Then the diamond dealers killed him without paying anything. Since then it has been passing through many bloody hands."

As Peter was talking, Stiles felt his stomach turn. He had to take deep breaths through his nose to not get sick. Because that was sick.

"I find it extremely pretty." Peter said, raising his blue eyes at his master and Stiles felt that good old fear he felt the first time he'd seen Peter. This wolf wasn't tamed. He was merely shackled. Stiles acted like all the other mages owning Peter, tying him up and using him. "The strongest, the most powerful would be the one taking it and that is what gives it its beauty. However, you people just look at how many carats it has." the wolf finished.

Stiles rubbed his face, not having the urge to look at the diamonds anymore. He didn't even want to look at any diamond again for that matter.

"See? Not everything is pretty for everyone." Peter chuckled, pulling Stiles closer. The boy stumbled a little, leaning against the familiar. "When I leave you, I walk this plane. I look at things, I smell things, I experience them." the wolf said. "Because you gave me a body, you gave me a way to finally feed my soul."

"And does... does it do anything, I mean..." Stiles asked, coughing a little.

"Yes. A rich soul is powerful, Master." Peter said. "Just like your soul. Your soul is old and rich and that's the reason it can pull up such powerful magic." he spoke with light fascination and yet, Stiles felt like he was about to be eaten alive.

"Because magic comes from the soul..." the boy sighed, looking around. "So basically, when you're away you go and find hideous things. To gain power."

"Well, you can say that." Peter chuckled, looking at Stiles. The boy frowned at him. There was a spark. Stiles couldn't really explain it, but there was something. And he had no idea if Peter leaned in or it was him, but the next thing he knew he was kissing the familiar.

They were standing in the room of a bloody diamond dealer, kissing. Stiles felt the environment shift again around them, but he had no idea where they ended up. All he knew was that he was still kissing Peter and it felt like going home. Like something Stiles was longing for was finally happening. It sent a sharp pain down his chest, something similar to being stabbed. But it was just a kiss. It was just Peter.

"Don't send me back, Master." Peter whispered against his lips when Stiles was still in a daze over what the hell was happening.

"Peter, I have to..." Stiles sighed, leaning his forehead against Peter's. "I need to. I will summon you again when I can legally do it."

"Promise to me." Peter snarled and it should have made Stiles scared. It should have made him feel threatened, scared and alarmed of Peter, but all it did was show how desperate Peter was.

"I promise." the boy whispered, opening his eyes. He didn't know when he’d closed them, but apparently he had. But meeting Peter's electric gaze was the worst. "Don't look at me like that."

"I want you to swear to me, Master, that you will call for me again." Peter said, his voice shaking from emotions Stiles couldn't exactly pinpoint. Was it fear? Was it anger? Desperation? Maybe all at once...

"Peter, what..." Stiles sighed a little frustrated. "What could I do to make you trust my word?"

The wolf sighed, closing his eyes. Stiles could feel his hesitation and desperation, but there was nothing he could do.

"They will try and convince you that you're better off without me. That I'm just a burden to you, but oh Stiles I'm not a burden." Peter spoke, shaking his head. "I can teach you what the books can't, I can be there to make your magic stronger. Stiles, you and me could be the most powerful pair of mages on this Plane..." he was speaking with a kind of hysteria in his voice which Stiles didn't miss. It was alarming at some degree, but on the other hand it was sad. Peter would have given the world to him just to stay in this plane and look at blood stained diamonds.

"I know." Stiles nodded, his voice sounding deeper than he expected. "I will call for you again. And we will rule this world, Peter." he said, looking into the eyes of the wolf.

Peter's lips pulled into a toothy grin and Stiles almost slapped him to make him get rid of that overly satisfied expression.

"Shut up and go show me more diamonds." Stiles sighed, stepping away a little shaken. Peter chuckled and took his Master's hand to pull him to faraway lands, to show him war and to show him blood, because Peter thought war was beautiful. War was what made humans come this far. And the fear of death put enough strength into them to come this long way which still hadn’t ended. Peter wasn’t talking about himself, he was talking about things that were fascinating him and that told more about him to Stiles.

By the time they ended their little journey, it was already late afternoon. They arrived back to Stiles' room and it looked like such a small little space to the boy in that moment.

"I still had so many things to ask." Stiles sighed, not letting go of Peter's hand. The wolf didn't answer, just softly chuckled.

“You know my answer to that, Master.” Peter chuckled quietly. His master nodded. Of course he did, but he had to take this one for his father. And for himself. But Stiles didn’t want to repeat himself. He already made his decision.

“I will ask everything when you get back.” Stiles swore and let go of Peter’s hand to walk around the room a little nervous. He spotted his lighter on his desk and took it, just to have something to do with his hands. He’s going to use it once his father is ready to leave for his night shift, and Stiles hoped he was sleeping at least a little this time. “I will also ask why the sky looks so strange when I’m with you.” the boy wondered quietly, looking out the window.

Stiles felt Peter tense a little, as the wolf turned his head toward the window too.

“Like it’s not the right color?” he asked quietly. Stiles stopped in his tracks, looking at Peter. He didn’t answer the wolf, but that was quite enough of an answer.

“A lifetime wouldn’t be enough with you.” Stiles whispered, swallowing all his questions, because he won’t get all the answers. Not from Peter and not like this.

There was a knock on Stiles’ door then and the next moment his father opened it, looking at them. Stiles sighed, pursing his lips. He wanted to comment on his father’s health and how he wasn’t sleeping once again. But he had no right for that.

“It’s time, son.” The sheriff said, looking at Peter for a second before he turned to leave.

Stiles was almost offended that his father had called Deaton and Argent for this ritual. Clearly showing that he didn’t trust him in doing what he’d asked from him. His father didn’t trust him in getting rid of Peter so he called another, proper mage and a hunter for supervising. Great days were to come, the boy thought.

The first time Stiles burned Peter he didn’t think anything of it. Peter was just a spell, something that wasn’t entirely real and burning him was like burning a piece of paper. But this time, after spending time with the familiar, after everything, it felt too real. It felt like burning a piece of himself. Thankfully Peter didn’t make a scene, he didn’t even talk or flinch as Stiles casted the banishing spell and took the lighter.

Stiles tried not to show how watching Peter be engulfed in flames made his insides scream and even his eyes water a little. But he wasn’t going to show it.

Familiars burn and they don’t leave anything behind. Peter didn’t leave any ashes or burned grass. He was just gone, like he had come. And Stiles felt like he could never get warm again. He put his arms around himself, turning back to his father and Deaton, only half listening that he will start his magical studies as soon as he’s ready.

The next day Stiles woke up with fading burn marks all over his body, but he didn’t talk about it to anyone. He went to school, finally, and started his studies determined to get all the answers about foxes, wolves and bronze colored skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! Yes, this part of the story ended, BUT there is more to this. Though it's not exactly ready yet... I'm not sure when I will get to it.
> 
> I will post more chapters [in these series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/215450). I may post one-shots too connected to this universe and all, I'll see.


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